A Little Understanding
by Skyhiatrist
Summary: It's not his fault that she's in love with him, but then she can't really help it either. Fate has locked Vicky's eyes eternally on Timmy, but Timmy's thoughts rest on Wanda and the now condemmed Cosmo. How to save him, what to do? VickyxTimmy.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Rewriting of _'She'_. Sorry to anyone who was waiting for he next instalment. I decided to remove AntiCosmo as it complicated things too much, but I am working on a story entitled _'One in a Million'_, which AntiCosmo shall feature in quite prominantly. the naughty littlescamp.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed _'Never the Eloquent'_ and _'Dance With Me'_. I'm like some sort of greedy praise monster. An appreciative, greedy praise monster. Thanks again. –Sky.**

-:-

**Prologue**

When most people get hurt they cry. If someone hurts them on the outside they bawl until they can't feel the pain anymore. Sometimes it goes deeper than that when someone destroys their feelings, and when they get hurt on the inside that's where they tend to cry. They wait until all the tears have fallen and then they are left behind to feel numb. Not me though. No matter how you hurt me, I only have one response. I get angry. I get mad and violent and I lash out, I want to equal the pain that I've had inflicted upon me. And I won't stop until someone else feels as bad as I do, because it's only then that I feel good. I've been hitting back for eleven years now, but I still don't feel any better.

Every time I leave a fragile body hurting in my wake, I walk away with a smile on my face. But the feeling doesn't last long. The hurt all rushes back after a little while, with a side order of guilt for all the things I've done since. I don't know if I want to be mean or not anymore, I just am now and there's nothing I can do to stop. I don't see why other people should get to be happy when I'm miserable as sin. No one ever takes the time to find out why I'm the way I am because they're all to busy hating me for it, so this is their own fault really. I'd probably stop if someone just took the time to ask me what was wrong.

I make up excuses like this for myself all the time. I'd like to think I'm just misunderstood, but really I know that all I am is a stupid little girl who can't deal with her problems. I'll never grow out of being cruel, because I don't plan to grow up. I'm never going to get over my past, I'm never going to apologise, and I'm never going to admit the truth to anyone. It makes me seem crazy but I know it's what keeps me sane. I take all this anger out on the Twerp and it leaves me feeling serene, I sleep easier when I know he's awake and detesting me. He doesn't tell his parents how badly I treat him though, and while I used to worry he would now I take it for granted. Perhaps he's the type who feeds off being the victim, so when he's older he can tell anyone who'll listen how he triumphed over adversity. Maybe he's just crazy like me. I often hear him talking to those weird little goldfish of his.

I like babysitting him more than any of the other kids I terrorise. He keeps me on my toes. I know he's afraid of me but every now and then he gets a little burst of courage and stands up to me. Of course, I knock him straight back down again, I can't let him think I'm weak, but it's endearing all the same. Timmy's sixteen now, he really doesn't need a babysitter, but his parents continue to pay me for my services anyway. Maybe its because they're away so much they don't realise he's all grown up now, they hardly notice him at all. I should feel bad for the Twerp, maybe, but I don't. I only feel sorry for myself.

I've had it harder than anyone would think. When the bullying first started, I must have been around eleven years old. Then I was a good kid, I really was. Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what Vicky used to be made of. But I soon realised that if I didn't start making a terror of myself people were going to keep walking all over me, just like they do to my bratty little sister. She's too soft you see, acting all weak and wearing her heart on her sleeve. She must have told the Twerp she was in love with him a thousand times, but never once did he ever seem to give a damn. I wanted to step in then, I'll admit it, but to me Tootie was just another kid for me to traumatise, she wasn't flesh and blood. Still, it sucked to see her hurt.

Tootie's sixteen as well now, and she's the little genius my parents always wanted. I think I hate her even more now. She's showed herself to be the better of the two of us. She's polite, and she's kind, and she's beautiful, whereas I'm a scowling pizza delivery girl with hair she can't tame. She doesn't obsess over Turner like she used to, which in many ways is a good thing because it means that I can without feeling too guilty about it. It was last year when I realised I had fallen for him, I don't know why or how but I remember being disgusted with myself. Not only was he the Twerp, but he was only fifteen and I was twenty-one. It's wrong, very wrong, but I can't help myself. But I suppose it doesn't matter. Even if I waited till the years between us didn't matter, he wouldn't want me anyway.

I know he's at that impressionable age where he'd fall in love with lino if it looked at him seductively, and all I have to do is brush my hair and flutter my eyelashes and he'd fall head over heels. A few good deeds would go a long way in Turner's case, I could have him totally in love with me if I wanted. And I do want it, very much. I dream of it every night as I sleep in my big empty bed in the house I still share with my parents. His eyes might still be fixed on that insufferable Trixie Tang, but a sixteen year old boy is a fickle thing indeed. I could have him lusting after me in no time, but it wouldn't be right. So much in my life has been tainted and dark, and I feel the need to keep this pure. If Timmy and I are meant to be, it will happen, either way.

It's been snowing a lot recently. Snow always reminds me of the Twerp. He always liked the snow when he was younger, and I would always make him stay inside because I loved the disappointment on his face. I'm not sure why I thrive when I hurt him on the inside. The physical pain doesn't help nor hinder me anymore, so I've slacked off a bit lately, turning instead to scarring him mentally. When I deny him something he really wants, or when I put him down, I feel good. It's sick and it's twisted, but I suppose that's my mind's way of dealing with my feelings. He torments me by making me love him, so I torment him in every other way. It's not fair, I know, because it isn't his fault, by God he's going to pay for it anyway.

In seven months Timmy will be seventeen. There's no way that date can arrive without his parents notice. He's been saying something about asking for driving lessons, and a boy who can drive is a boy who doesn't need a babysitter. One day I know Mr. and Mrs. Turner will turn around and tell me that Timmy doesn't need me anymore, and if things keep going the way they are I know that after that day I'll never see him again. It breaks my heart to think it, and while I've been ignoring it very well, lately it's been beating me down more and more. I guess it's because it's getting ever closer, and I'm also well aware of the fact that it could happen long before he turns seventeen. I don't want to leave him, I want to take care of him until the day I die, and it's weird, because I think he'll be sad to see me go as well.

I can't put my finger on it, but that Twerp has a secret and it's something to do with me. No amount of beating will ever get him to confess it, but I know it's a good secret and when I'm gone so is it. I want to let him keep it, I want him to know that I care. I can't tell him and I can't show him any other way than just sticking around. My babysitting is what keeps me away from a proper job. I could sit behind a desk, bored out of my mind but earning a proper wage, but I need something part time so I can fit it around Timmy. I speed around Dimsdale delivering pizza to all the kids I used to beat up and they laugh at me, with a superior look on their faces as if they knew I'd never amount to anything. But I don't care, I have my reasons for doing what I do and I'll be damned if I'm going to give them up.

Timmy is definitely the centre of my universe now. No matter what I do, it's always with Timmy in mind. I can't go to visit my grandma because Timmy's parents might need me to stop by. I don't go to university because I'd have to go out of state. This makes me want to hurt him even more; I've fouled up my future for the love I have for a boy who'll never love me back. That's stupid and pointless and yet I've done it anyway. But then, I've never really been one for rational thought, in case you couldn't tell.

I'm not beautiful, I know, but every now and then one of my desperate customers will try hitting on me and asking for my number. I shoot them all down. Between breaking up with Ricky and falling in love with Timmy, I've not had a single boyfriend. I slept with a guy I used to go to high school with out of sheer desperation, my virginity becoming something of an embarrassment to me as I aged. I realise now that it was a horrible mistake. It was a quick drunken fumble under a pile of coats at some girl's graduation party, and it only left me feeling dirty and stupid. Timmy suffered greatly that summer, I can tell you.

Maybe I love Timmy because he's adorable. Those bucked teeth of his are just so cute, and his scrawny little body that he just can't seem to grow into actually makes me blush. Or maybe I love him because he's kind to most people, and he never really puts a toe out of line. He's sweet and he's still kind of innocent, despite the fact that he's very much a slave to his hormones. I'm kidding myself though, I know why I love him. It's the eyes. Those beautiful, shimmering blue eyes of his that underneath all the hatred and fear show a shadow of understanding for me. It's as if he knows something about me that even I don't, and he teases me with it, daring me to get closer to him, his eyes betraying his mind as I know that's the last thing he wants. I don't know why Timmy of all people would show this compassion for me, but he does. It's as though we carry each other along. I need him to remind me I'm human, and he needs me because of that dirty little secret he has.

Maybe he'll tell me someday, I don't know. Maybe I'll stop feeling this way, or maybe I'll learn not to strike out at those who might love me. Maybe, I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Until then though, I'm still going to love him, because I need him, and he needs me.


	2. Borrowed Time

**Chapter 1 – Borrowed Time**

_Dear Diary,_

_I never thought she'd give up so easy, and I never thought she'd let me down. She didn't try to fight. She just stood there, looking dumbstruck as though my dad had just told her she was dying. Of course, I couldn't argue, or she'd have been straight onto me. I think she always knew that I had a secret, why else wouldn't I complain about the way she treated me? If she really hated me so much she would have left when she realised I needed her to stick around. She thought she was good at hiding her feelings, but I know she liked being my babysitter. I knew it was a cushy and easy, because my parents paid her more than she was worth and I always did exactly what I told. I didn't think she would ever leave, or at least I thought she would try to stay. But she didn't, she didn't even look at me. It sounds crazy, but I think she was crying. Maybe that's why she couldn't speak._

_I trusted her. That's odd, to say the least. But I did. I knew that while I might not have been safe from Vicky when I was with her I was at least safe from everything else. She wouldn't let any harm come to me while I was in her care unless she inflicted it herself. She even stopped doing that in my later years, but she still protected me from everything else. She started to become vague with her orders though, as though she didn't care what I did as long as I wasn't around her. Maybe she got sick of looking at me. She used to throw insults at me left, right and centre, and I actually found it difficult to concentrate when she stopped. I couldn't clean the toilet properly when I had to keep looking over my shoulder to see if she was in the doorway, ready to throw something harsh my way. I never saw her slim frame standing ominously behind me though, not anymore. Not since I turned sixteen really. She became skittish around me, as if the only thing she had ever feared was teenage boys. I don't know what changed, maybe she was too old to hurt my feelings anymore. Maybe she grew out of being a bully. Maybe it was something else. _

_Maybe it was the same thing that kept her coming back to look after me even though she hated to do so. Well, maybe hated is the wrong word. She liked the money, she liked the hours, and she liked my spinelessness in the face of her temper. But I could see it was starting to pain her to come back, something deep inside her that she would never tell anyone I was sure, but I could see it in her eyes. Perhaps she felt a failure. While Tootie showed so much promise and talent, she was twenty-one and still babysitting part time for a living. She could have gone to college if she wanted, Tootie mentioned that she did pretty well on her SATs, but she stayed in Dimsdale, like she was bonded to the place. She got that job working at Palace Pizza, driving around and feeling thoroughly embarrassed about it, I could tell. And maybe, when she had to come and look after me I was reminder of how bad everything had gotten, how much she had given up. I don't know and now she's gone I guess I never will._

_I'm angry with her. She knew I needed her and to spite me she just left. She didn't argue, didn't even try. She couldn't even look at me as she went, and not just because she didn't want me to see the tears. She couldn't look at me because she had let me down so badly it made even her feel guilty. She doesn't know exactly what she's done by leaving me behind, but there's no way I'll ever forgive her. Cosmo and Wanda will probably be gone by this time tomorrow and it's all her fault. Some people might judge me harshly here, and say that they would have had to leave sooner or later and that I'm actually pretty lucky to have had them so long, granting my wishes for me whenever I wanted. But that's the thing. I don't care if Cosmo and Wanda never grant me another wish just as long as they don't go. They're so much more than my fairy godparents now, they're my friends, and I love them._

_Seven years we've been together, and they've helped me through so much. I can't bear to think that I might never see them again, just because of Fairy World and its stupid Rules. Even if they could just visit me from time to time while being some other kid's godparents I wouldn't mind. I'm just going to miss them so much. It's only a matter of time before Jorgen realises Vicky isn't babysitting me anymore, and then he's going to come down and take them from me forever. There's no way I can plead with him to let them stay, or let me remember. They've gone through hundreds, maybe thousands of godchildren in their time, and while they've probably been with me the longest that doesn't really make me anything special. It's so unfair. Sometimes I wish I had never gotten them at all, but then I think back to everything we've done together and I feel horrible. I wouldn't have missed that for the world._

_It was my birthday today, and I've never felt worse. I guess Vicky left because she thought it would be the ultimate. There's nothing she could ever do to me that could be worse than this. There was nothing she could do to me that was worse than leaving me behind._

-:-

Timmy closed his diary and put his head down on his desk. His table light was shining brightly in his eyes and, irritated, he turned his head away. His fishbowl stood on his bedside table, seemingly empty. He knew that Cosmo and Wanda must be in the castle, no longer able to keep up the pretence that everything was going to be ok. He sighed; he wished they wouldn't hide from him. He didn't know how much time they had left together and he sure as hell didn't want to spend it apart. But then, he thought, the last time that he got to hang around with Cosmo and Wanda there would be an impenetrable air of gloom over the three of them, and that would be just as bad. Timmy growled. This was all Vicky's fault. If he could just go and see her, and explain that he needed her around without letting slip why, maybe she would come back and look after him again. He could appeal to her better nature he was sure of it. Assuming, of course, that she had one.

"Cosmo?" Timmy said faintly, not raising his head. "Wanda?" As usual his fairies appeared right at his side when he called their names. Wanda's eyes were puffy and red, and Cosmo was twisting his wand between his hands, not in his usual, boundless energy, but in his sadness and anxiety. At once Timmy felt a regret at calling them out here. They weren't over the shock of Vicky's departure and neither was he, but he was missing them around and he hated being miserable when he was alone.

"What's up sport?" Wanda asked bravely, smiling through her tears.

"I was just thinking, could I wish… for something?" Wanda and Cosmo exchanged worried looks. They could feel a denial coming on, something Timmy wanted that the Rules would never allow.

"Uh, go ahead Timmy," Wanda said as she and her husband raised their wands.

"I wish Vicky was my babysitter again," Timmy said defiantly, a hopeful smile on his face. Cautiously, Cosmo and Wanda waved their wands and closed their eyes. Their wands deflated almost at once, and Da Rules appeared in front of Wanda in their usual unwelcome fashion. Wanda's eyes scanned the page, the forbidden wish always caused the Rule book to open in the right place, but she looked puzzled. "What is it?" Timmy asked. Wanda frowned.

"I don't understand why the wish would be denied by anything on this page," she said slowly, running the tip of her wand along the lines as Cosmo peered over her shoulder.

"What page is it?" Timmy asked.

"It's the page that explains how our magic can't be used to interfere with true love," Wanda, scratching her head with her wand. Timmy was just as confused as Wanda.

"Should I try again?" he asked, as Wanda poofed the book away.

"Sure," Wanda said warily, and she and Cosmo held up their wands once more.

"I wish," Timmy said in a slow, clear voice, "that Vicky was my babysitter again." Their wands sparkled momentarily and Timmy leaned forward, hope in his eyes, but he was quickly disappointed when the wands deflated again. The book appeared in front of Wanda and her hopeful look was replaced by and angry one as it opened up on the same page again.

"I just don't understand it," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Maybe…" Timmy said slowly. "Maybe Vicky's met someone and if she baby-sits me she won't be able to spend time with him anymore." Wanda ran her hand along the back of her neck.

"I don't think so Timmy," Wanda said thoughtfully. "Babysitting isn't usually the number one cause of break-ups when it comes to true love."

"Maybe she's in love with someone who really hates me, and he won't let her see me," Timmy suggested. Both Cosmo and Wanda shrugged.

"Should we talk to Jorgen?" Cosmo asked.

"NO!" Timmy and Wanda cried at once.

"Sweetie," Wanda said gently to her husband. "We don't want to attract more attention from Jorgen than we already have. The sooner he knows that Vicky is gone the sooner he'll show up to take us away!" Cosmo slapped his hand over his mouth, looking horrified. Wanda gently put her arms around his shoulders as tears flooded her eyes once more, and she bit her lip to keep them at bay.

As if on cue, a tremendous thunder filled the room. The space between Timmy's desk and his bed was filled with the gigantic form of Jorgen Von Strangle, who had an angry look on his face as his muscles bulged dangerously. Timmy fell from his chair in shock. Jorgen rounded on Cosmo and Wanda. "Puny fairies!" he roared, pointing his wand at the two shaking figures, who were now holding onto each other for dear life. "I have come to take you away!"

"No!" Cosmo cried as his wife flung herself full into his arms, weeping unabashedly into his shoulders. "Please don't take us from Timmy Jorgen, please!" A quiet tear trickled down Cosmo's cheek. "I can't keep losing them Wanda," he whispered into his wife's pink hair. "It hurts." Wanda looked up at her husband, and guilt flooded her insides. But, she thought as she heard Timmy finally getting up from the floor, she would have to worry about that later. Timmy was all that mattered now. She was shocked to see he was crying and releasing shuddering sobs.

"Don't take them, they're my friends," Timmy said pleadingly, the tears magnifying the deep blue of his eyes and softening Jorgen's mighty heart. He rounded his wand onto Timmy, who gulped as he stared down the business end of it. He was aware that he was crying, and he hastily tried to wipe his tears away on the back of his hand, feeling ashamed.

"Timmy," Jorgen growled, but there was a touch of sympathy in his voice. "You cannot keep them forever. You knew this when they were assigned to you." Timmy nodded slowly, knowing he couldn't fight it. "Cosmo… Wanda…" he began, but Jorgen cut him off.

"But…" he said with an inquisitive look on his face, "you are not happy, and godparents are supposed to make you happy before they can leave."

"Are any of the kids ever happy to see their godparents go?" Timmy asked incredulously, before mentally kicking himself for trampling all over his own defence.

"No," Jorgen conceded. "But there is something else keeping you down. Until your godparents find out what it is and fix it, they will stay with you. Or," he added in a ferocious voice, "until the end of the month arrives. Then they go and you will be miserable." He disappeared in a macho burst of smoke and lightning, leaving Timmy, Cosmo and Wanda to throw themselves into each other's arms.

"It's only until the end of the month though sweetie," Wanda said gently.

"I know," Timmy said brightly, "but at least we can spend that time together having the best time ever. Then maybe you can have some really good memories of me when you go."

"We already do!" Cosmo protested, but Timmy shook his head and smiled.

"You guys know what I mean," he said. He sat down on his bed while his fairies floated gently beside him. "What do you think Jorgen meant? You know, about that other thing?" Timmy asked them. Both Cosmo and Wanda shrugged, with shameful expressions on their faces. "What's wrong?" Timmy asked them, feeling bad.

"Well," Cosmo said, bowling his head. "It doesn't seem right to us that Jorgen noticed there was something else bothering you when we didn't."

"But it doesn't feel like anything else is bothering me," Timmy said genuinely. "Except maybe that Trixie Tang won't go out with me, but I know there's nothing you can do about that."

"We'll help you with that though!" Wanda said earnestly, as though she would have Trixie and Timmy together by the end of the month or die trying. Timmy smiled at his godparents, their inevitable departure forgotten for a little while as he wished up a giant chocolate cake.


	3. Wanda's Apology

**A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. I mashed my hand, then my computer went psycho, then I had major writer's block, but here's chapter three! I know this story is a little all over the place, but my excuse is 'It's meant to be that way' and I'm sticking to it. Next chapter will be longer, Brownie's honour. - Sky.**

**Chapter Three - Wanda's Apology**

Long after Timmy had gone to bed, Cosmo found himself unable to sleep. He sat on Timmy's windowsill, staring out into the darkness that engulfed Dimsdale and trying not to cry. He knew Wanda was watching him and not daring to move, and in the darkest part of his soul he felt a bitter happiness that she was suffering. This was her fault after all, she was the one to blame for the way Cosmo was feeling. _She should feel guilty_, he thought as he pressed his hands against the window. He was her husband after all, how could she do this to him?

-

_"I don't think it's a good idea Wanda," Cosmo said quietly. He hated denying his wife anything, especially something she wanted so badly, but he couldn't white wash his feelings and go ahead with what she was proposing. He wouldn't be able to handle it, of that he was certain, and if that was the case he wouldn't be the only one to suffer. He couldn't do it, it wasn't fair._

_"Why not Cosmo?" Wanda asked softly, trying to blink back the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. Cosmo felt his heart break just a little bit._

_"I won't be able to say goodbye Wanda, you know what I'm like," he said sympathetically, chancing a smile at the mention of his own shortcomings._

_"But just think of all the good we'll be doing Cosmo! And it would make me so happy." Most husbands would have felt a dart of anger at their wives if they tried to manipulate them in such a way, but Cosmo just found it endearing. He knew Wanda could wrap him around her little finger, but he was so comfortable there he couldn't see sense in complaining._

_"But godparents?" Cosmo replied, defiantly sticking to his guns. "It's such a tough job and we both know I'm not the smartest knife in the draw."_

_"Oh don't be stupid Cosmo," Wanda replied, waving her hand fussily. "Being a godparent isn't about smarts, it's about love and kindness, and I know you're brimming over with those." She smiled cheekily and kissed her husband on the cheek, reducing him to a mushy puddle that was near incapable of putting up a fight._

_"I don't see why we can't..." he began nervously, dodging Wanda's gaze. She smiled, slightly bemused._

_"Can't what sweetie?"_

_"Why we can't have our own," Cosmo said in a rush. Wanda ran her hands over her stomach in response to this._

_"Maybe some day pudding," she said, positively beaming. "But not yet. We've only been married for fifty years! I mean, what would the neighbours say?"_

_"We have neighbours?" Cosmo asked, forgetting his troubles for the moment. Wanda took both her husband's hands in her own and smiled at him. That was all it took, Cosmo knew right then that he didn't stand a chance._

-

Cosmo had caved in soon after that. If he was honest, the idea of becoming a godparent did appeal to him. He had grown up always feeling something was missing, as his father had never really taken the time to get to know him or even acknowledge his existence, and he had been miserable because of it. He had always wished that someone would come along and fill that void and someone had, in the shape of his beautiful wife, and he was more than willing to do the same for others. But he had been honest, and rather vocal, about his fears when the time came to leave their godchildren behind. As Jorgen had explained on their first day of training, kids don't stay kids forever, and sooner or later you'll have to leave them and they will forget you ever existed. The thought broke Cosmo's heart, and he was worried that he wouldn't open up to his godchildren for fear of growing attached to them, and he would fail as a godfather just like he had failed at everything else.

Timmy was restless in his bed. Cosmo threw him a worried look, catching just a glimpse of pink hair as he did so. He had tried not to love Timmy, he really had, but in the end he just couldn't help it. Timmy was an amazing godson. He didn't love them because they folded at his slightest whim, he loved them just because. Cosmo thought of all the times that Timmy had stuck his neck out to help them, even if it was at his own expense, and before he knew it the tears were flowing. He had loved his other godchildren, certainly, but Timmy was something else. Timmy was the son that Cosmo had never had. How on earth was he ever going to say goodbye?

-

_"Checkmate!" Cosmo exclaimed happily. Opposite him, a young girl with long red hair and matching freckles narrowed her eyes._

_"We're playing Draughts Cosmo," she said in an ammused voice. Cosmo fixed her with a goofy grin._

_"Oh," he said quickly. "Then King me!" The girl almost fell to the floor, her violent fit of giggles had gripped her so suddenly._

_"Cosmo? Sweetie?" Cosmo looked over at his wife, who was hovering nervously by the door. "Can I talk to you in private for a moment please?"_

_"Which anniversary did you forget this time?" the young girl asked, struggling to keep her laughter under control. Cosmo shrugged and went to his wife._

_"I'm sorry," he said quickly, before Wanda could speak._

_"What for?" she asked._

_"For whatever it is I did that you're about to yell at me for," he said, offering her what he hoped was a winning smile. She rolled her eyes, before changing her mind and taking his hands in hers just as she had done all those years before._

_"Cosmo," she said gently, and Cosmo felt his insides freeze. This was her serious voice, her serious manner. She had bad news to tell him. "Jorgen came to see me today, while you and Sarah were at school." Cosmo bit his lip._

_"Not now," he said in a whisper. He had played this scene out with Wanda so many times he knew it off by heart. They were leaving, and it would be soon._

-

Cosmo had managed to sneak away a few times after that fateful day without arousing Wanda's suspicions, just to check on Sarah. She wasn't the first child they had left by a long way, and she certainly wouldn't be the last, but Cosmo knew that she would always have a special place in his heart. Four years they had been her fairies, and yet Sarah had never overcome her guilt complex when it came to wishing. It made Cosmo smile to think of the way she would wring her hands and stutter whenever she wished for something that was just for her. Cosmo loved her very much.

When he floated outside of her window and watched her as she gossiped with her girlfriend, it was clear that she had no recollection of her fairy godparents at all. For everything she had acquired through there magics a false explanation had been implanted in her brain. Sarah used to say that hanging out with Cosmo and Wanda were the happiest moments of her life, and now she didn't remember them at all.

Cosmo remembered. It stung him to think that he would never hear her laugh again, he would never see her drop another lamp or ornament out of her sheer clumsiness again, he would never hear her singing to herself when she thought no one was listening again. It was like losing his daughter, and Cosmo had known all along he wasn't strong enough for it. It was killing him inside.

-

_"What's his name again?" Cosmo asked through a mouthful of fudge cake._

_"Timmy Turner," Wanda replied, glowering at Cosmo for not offering to share. He hugged his arm tightly around his plate and poked his tongue out at her._

_"Nuh uh, you said you didn't want any," he said stubbornly._

_"Stupid diet," Wanda replied, scowling._

_"Why are we going to him?" Cosmo asked, finally putting his fork down._

_"He has an evil babysitter," Wanda replied. "Just like Joseph, only this one's much worse." Cosmo's smile faltered a little. Joseph was the one with the pircing blue eyes and soft southern accent. He used to play catch with Cosmo all the time, back in the thirties. He had died just last year, but Wanda said that heart attacks were common at his age._

_"Oh," Cosmo said, losing his appetite at once._

_"What's wrong sweetie?" Wanda asked, placing her hand on Cosmo's arm._

_"Nothing," Cosmo said in a cheerful voice. "Nothing at all." Wanda smiled, apparently satisifed. "When do we leave?"_

_"As soon as you finish your fudge cake," Wanda replied, eyeing the dessert in question. Cosmo sighed at his wife, feeling that bolt of warmth shoot through his heart that came with loving her so much._

_"You wanna give me a hand here honey?" he asked, handing her a fork. She grabbed it from him without a second thought and stole Cosmo's plate from under his nose._

-

"You think it'll rain?"

Cosmo couldn't find his voice to answer her. He couldn't care less whether it was going to rain or not, and there was only a trace of shock within him regarding his anger towards his wife. He hadn't wanted this, and he still didn't. He just wanted to settle down, with Wanda and their very own child, raising his baby in the way a proper father would.

"Please, talk to me Cosmo."

He wanted to. God, how he wanted to, but all he could think to say were words that would hurt Wanda, and he hadn't sunken that low yet. He closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the glass. He felt Wanda's hand fall gently on his shoulder, and though every instinct in his body told him to shrug it off he knew that he just didn't have it in him.

"Wanda?" he finally managed.

"Yes sweetie?" she said, her voice full of hope. Cosmo turned around, and Wanda felt herself recoil at the sadness in his face. She felt horrible and wretched, and she would give anything to make Cosmo feel better. She wanted to right the wrong she had inflicted upon him, and make everything proper again the way a good wife should. She loved the man who sat before her, and she was having trouble contemplating why she would hurt him so. Anything he wanted, it was his.

"Can we go home?"

An age passed between the two fairies. Cosmo felt as though he had just had a great weight lifted from his chest. The question he had been dying to ask a thousand godchildren before had finally been spoken. He could finally rest easy now, whatever the outcome. Wanda felt a rush of emotion all at once. Yes, she was tired of this lifestyle and yes, it would be nice to finally stop moving, but oh God what would she do without her godchildren? Cosmo's eyes pleaded with her. It didn't matter what she did. In her heart she knew they would never have another godson like Timmy, and she may as well finish on a high.

"Yes Cosmo," she said softly. "We can go home." Cosmo felt his rage dissolve, only to be replaced with a feeling of grattitude and guilt. This was Wanda's life, and she had given it all up just for him. He felt her bury her face in his messy green hair and he realised with a shock that she was leaning on him, not the other way around. She had come for his forgiveness, and she had won it, but it didn't stop her aching. "Oh Cosmo I'm so sorry," she wept. Cosmo held her tightly.

"What for?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"For putting you through all this. I've been just terrible." Cosmo hushed his wife gently.

"Wanda," he said. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world." Wanda lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. He wasn't lying.

"Cosmo, can we..." she began nervously.

"Can we what sweetie?"

"Can we have our own?" Cosmo brought Wanda's lips to his and kissed her deeply. Wanda smiled, and led her husband to their bedroom.


	4. Wasteland

**I know it took a while because I am all over the shop. I don't think Chapter 5 will be out for at least another month either. Stupid life of woe and blehness...**

**Issues in this chapter will be expanded upon at a later date. This is just a chapter for getting many balls a-rollin' **

**WARNING: Adult themes aplenty. Ok, One. - Sky.**

**Chapter 4 - Wasteland**

Sunlight broke through the gap in Vicky's curtains, rousing her from what had been a very uneasy sleep into a very unwanted hangover. She groaned and brought a hand to her eyes, her thin fingers providing very little protection against the sun's ceaseless onslaught. Wrenching herself into a sitting position, where she could at least bow her head down away from her curtains, she swallowed thickly, wincing at the fur on her tongue. Empty beer cans and bottles of cheap cider littered her floor, and the disgusting smell was not helping her naseau at all. She bit down hard on her bottom lip and screwed up her eyes, before forcing herself to open them again and beginning the gruelling struggle towards the bathroom.

She lurched to her feet, throwing herself to her door and clinging against the frame for support. The cold wood was welcomed on her hot skin; Vicky slept in nothing but her underwear, as when she was drunk she seemed to get so inexplicably hot, an effect that wouldn't have worn off when the morning after kicked in. For just a second she let herself remain there, happy to have at least one thing in her life that would hold her up when she needed it, even if it was nothing more than a mere doorframe, but then her need for the bathroom far overtook her need to feel. She managed to conjour a strength from somewhere that propelled her to the toilet and stopped her from vomitting all over the carpet.

A stomach of bad decisions found their way down the sides of the porcelain bowl and with a grim sense of ease, one Vicky was sure wouldn't even last a full ten minutes before the naseau returned, she got to her feet and flushed the chain, leaving only the faint smell of pine fresh bleach to remain. The pressed her palms down heavily on the rim of the sink and stared at her gaunt reflection. She had lost so much weight recently, it showed on her prominant cheekbones and the dark circles beneath her eyes. And oh, her eyes. What a terrible sight they had become. Permenantly red-rimmed with a pinkish tinge that wouldn't fade until the sun went down, and then she would start drinking again and put it right back where it was. Her hair fell in shards around her face, the rubber band that held it back now lost in her stinking bed sheets. She ran her fingers through it, but found they became far too tangled when she reached the crown.

Every morning it was the same. It was her ritual, the only way she could start her day now. If it was up to her she wouldn't rise from her bed at all, but she needed to work. She needed the money, squandering it all on booze and almost missing the way it used to be the only thing she lived for. Now there was nothing to live for at all, as far as she was concerned, but there was Timmy to waste away for, and that was good enough for Vicky. There was Timmy to blame for the way she felt in the mornings, and there was Timmy to thank for the almost warm feeling she got when she was drunk, when she could pretend they were in love together, the alcohol almost making her believe it was true.

She spat into the sink, the last few traces of bile running down the plug hole, as bitter as Vicky felt. She hated the way she felt when she was drunk. When Timmy could do no wrong and she couldn't help but want him and need him and love him, but it was all empty when the morning came. All pointless. Timmy didn't love her, and he never would no matter how hard she tried to poison herself. A voice in the back of her mind tried to protest that she drank to forget all about the Twerp, but an even louder voice shouted at her that without Timmy in her head she was empty inside. She put her hands to her temples and scruched her hair between angry fists. If there was just a away to block them _both_ out, that would be just fine.

Angrily she strode over to the bath, switching the shower taps on to a heat she knew she couldn't really handle, her headache forgotten for the moment in her rage. It was not surprising to her though, it was all part of the ritual. It was everything she had come to expect since she had fallen for Timmy. She removed what little clothing she wore and stepped beneath the steaming jet. She felt her skin recoil and creep as the temperature seared at her, but in some ways it helped. All emotional pain was forgotten while her primal instincts took over, telling her to get out, get out, get out. It's too much, it hurts too much, get out. But she wouldn't. Her body would just have to wait to get used to it, and that was final. There was no escaping hurt, she knew that much, and there was no turning the feeling off. You just had to accept it for what it was and try to live around it.

Then came the tears, and Vicky knew why. Love wasn't a blister on the heel of your foot, or finding yourself a little short in the pocket when your favourite band released their newest batch of melodies that you know would never be as good as 'the old stuff'. No, love was a brutal feeling that found a way to infect everything you did, and poison your mind be it asleep or awake. There was no negotiation, no compromise. Love did as it wanted and you had to find a way to let_ it _live around _you_. She wiped her hands viciously across her cheeks and felt only warm water brushed away. This was why she cried here. Because then the water on her cheeks could be from the shower or her eyes, but she could never be certain. Everything blurred into everything else and if nothing was definate then maybe someday she and Timmy would be together. It was strange logic, she knew, but when she had reduced herself to what she had it was the only thing she had left.

Finally she crumbled, she always did, and she upped the cold water a little, just to make the assault on her skin a little more bearable. There was enough pain in her life, and there was no reason she should add to it herself. She did not straighten her back after leaning down to turn the tap, and instead chose to let her body fall to the same level, before collapsing entirely until she was sitting on the bottom of the bath, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears flowed thick and fast and did not take pains to pretend to be anything else. "Oh God," she managed to choke out. "Oh God, Timmy." In sheer desperation she slapped her outstetched palm against the tiles, again and again, her face showing nothing but raw, intense agony. She had never hurt so much. "I don't want to love you anymore," she whispered, though it never helped, and the morning ritual was complete.

-

Tootie had been staring at her reflection for so long that she was now happily looking through it, to the shimmering pennies below. The fountain trickled gently just out of her sight, and she smiled. She sometimes found it rather ammusing to note that her place of tranquil serenity was in the bustling Dimsdale Mall, but it didn't matter. She could sit here for hours and no one would disturb her, they would just walk by and carry on with their business, not paying the girl a second thought. And she could stare down into the waters and think about everything. About love and life, and how much she adored the both of them, and of course, about him. _Speaking of which_, she thought, checking her watch, _he should have been here ten minutes ago_.

"Hey Tootie!" a voice called. She snapped her head up, a broad grin on her face as the blonde haired youth made his way to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a gentle kiss on her lips, which she was all too happy to return. "Hey there," he said smoothly. "Don't we look gorgeous today?" Tootie giggled and blushed, looking down to the floor.

"You're silly," she said quietly not looking up. Chester pulled her tighter into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"That doesn't change the fact that you are the most beautiful girl in the world now does it?" he replied sweetly, and she linked her hand through his as the two made their way through the mall.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "I need a new calculator. Mine's dead," she said matter-of-factly. Chester smiled obligingly and led his girlfriend to the stationary shop, but half way there the couple were interupted by a shrill bleeping. Chester looked apologetically at Tootie and pulled his cell phone out of his jeans' pocket.

"Hello?" he said. Tootie listened with half an ear to the disjointed conversation and wandered off to gaze bemusedly in the window of a shoe shop. She spotted a pair of shocking pink stilettos with heels so high she suspected that they came with free breathing apparatus.

"Not thinking of buying a pair are you?" said a familiar voice behind her.

"Timmy!" she said happily, throwing her arms around the boy. He smiled and returned the embrace, before the two broke apart. Timmy found that once Tootie had ceased being so helplessly obsessed with him she was actually rather pleasant company, and she seemed to be working wonders for Chester's self esteem. Since the two had been going out Timmy could honestly say he had never seen Chester happier, and he was a pretty upbeat kind of guy. "Did you have a good birthday?" she asked.

"It was ok," Timmy said, not wishing to relive it. "Sort of quiet, you know." Tootie nodded.

"I heard Vicky's not..." she hesitated to use the word 'babysitting'. Timmy was seventeen after all, and boys could get rather testy about these sorts of things. "Hanging out at yours... anymore?" She knew that was a poor choice of phrase as soon as she said it, but at short notice it was the best she could do.

"Nope," said Timmy shortly. "She's not babysitting me anymore either," he said with a jaunty smiled. Tootie giggled. She was a little saddened to see that Timmy did not share her reaction.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glancing over at Chester who was still deep in conversation. "Not missing her are you?" she said with a nervous laugh. Timmy crossed his eyes at the pretty girl and stuck out his tongue.

"God, no!" he said quickly, before adding, "No offence."

"None taken," Tootie assured him.

"It's just all really hitting me, you know? Growing up and stuff. I'm not sure I want to do it."

"I guess no one really wants to," Tootie said sympathetically. "But you sort of have to." Timmy looked at her stubbornly.

"Pssf. I want out," he said, folding his arms across his chest. Tootie laughed and this time Timmy joined in, just as Chester came over to them.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Me of course," Timmy said quickly.

"Funny looking maybe," Chester cut in. Tootie slapped him playfully on the arm, and Timmy gave him a dry smile.

"I'll leave you two lovebirds to it, shall I?" Timmy said, giving them a final nod and disappearing into a sports store. Chester frowned at his retreating back as Tootie linked her arm through his, before turning to Tootie with a guilty look on his face.

"What is it?" she asked urgently. Chester sighed and ran his hand around the back of his neck.

"That was my dad," he said sadly. "He got into a little trouble with his car. It got towed and he kicked up a right stink, so they threw his sorry ass in jail." Tootie's hands flew up to her mouth in a gesture of shock, but Chester offered her a comforting smile. "Oh don't worry hon," he said gently. "I just have to go over there and pay his bail is all. I'm really sorry but I think I'm gonna have to cut this date short. God, my dad is such a jackass sometimes," he said, kicking at the ground. Tootie frowned at him and took his hands in her own.

"This is important," she said sweetly. "You go. We'll meet up some other time." Chester smiled.

"Ok, but there's something I want to do first," he said, leading her back to the very same fountain she had sat at for hours before. Inside her was a feeling of mingled dread and excitement. He was either about to propose to her or break up with her, and Tootie was fairly certain she wanted neither. He sat her down before taking the seat next to her. _Ok_, she thought, _not on one knee_. _That only leaves leaves the other option_... "Don't worry," he said softly. "It's nothing major." She breathed a sigh of relief and let him continue.

"I er, ok, I'm really bad at this. I er, just wanted to let you know something." He swallowed thickly and Tootie continued to smile at him, waiting patiently. "Look, the thing is Tootie, I've known you forever. Ok, for most of that you were obsessed with my best friend, but I still thought you were pretty cool. But since we've been going out I've only really realised how truly amazing you are, and what makes it even better is that you actually seem to want to be with me. I know this is pretty mushy, and I know we're only seventeen but I have to say this sooner or later there's no other way to say it. I... um, I'm in love. Uh, with you." He winced, as though expecting Tootie to stand up and rip his still beating heart from his chest and hand it to him, but she did no such thing. Her eyes filled with tears and she seemed to be having difficulty finding her voice.

So she just kept smiling.

-

Timmy felt lost. He had been in the mall a thousand times and he knew it back to front, but as he walked through the rows and rows of football jersies he felt completely stranded. He made his way towards the door and spotted a vacant bench, feeling that sitting down for just a little while would calm his nerves a little. He was halfway across the highly polished floor when he spotted another figure. She was slumped against the wall outside of a coffee shop, staring down into a paper cup and looking thoroughly depressed. Timmy was shocked. Only yesterday he had seen Vicky, looking slightly down but otherwise getting along just fine, and now here she was looking as though her world had crumbled around her.

Her eyes looked dry, as though she had cried so much her eyes were sick of it and refused to cry anymore. She was clearly cold, so cold she was shaking from it, yet she was sporting her usual attire, the green t-shirt exposing her midriff and thin black jeans. Her hair fell to just above her shoulders, giving the impression that it would have been three times longer if it were only brushed out. With a stange jolt in the region of his stomach Timmy realised he had never seen Vicky without her ponytail. It looked nice, despite her dishevelled state and with another jolt Timmy realised he hated it. He wanted to go over there and order her to tie it back up.

In his heart Timmy had always known that Vicky was rather attractive, but in the same breath he could have told you that it didn't matter. She was still mean spirited and nasty, and looking nice would never make up for that. But when he saw her stripped of every trace of meaness and, apparently, of everything else, he found that he could at last appreciate her beauty, even if he didn't like doing so. There was no attraction to Vicky as far as Timmy could tell, just a small understanding that yes, she was in fact pretty, and no, it wasn't only Tootie who was the lucky one. He shook these thoughts from his brain as he watched Vicky reach up and wipe away a stray tear that had managed to escape.

His instincts told him to go over there and ask her what was wrong, but he was frightened. Whatever it was was so terrible that perhaps if he went over there it would affect him too, and he really didn't want that. With thoughts of Cosmo and Wanda laying heavily on his brain he really didn't need any more anguish. A bitter voice in the back of his mind told him that he had no business going over there and easing Vicky's suffering. After all, suffering was what she dealt in and if she couldn't take it back she ought not to dish it out. Still, when the mighty fall they make one hell of a sound. With a final wrench of guilt Timmy tore his eyes from Vicky and headed in the opposite direction.

-

Tootie floated into her house that evening as though she were walking on air. As she shut her front door she noted that her parents car was missing from the driveway but she could still clearly hear sounds of the TV booming from the living room. It must have been Vicky's night off. Part of her wanted to just sneak up to bed and avoid a confrontation, but she hadn't eaten much through the day and she felt she could really use a snack. Quietly she walked into the living room, as if hoping that Vicky wouldn't notice her, and headed for the kitchen.

"Hey Tootie," Vicky said in a rather pleasant manner. Tootie was shocked. She had to admit that things between herself and her sister had gotten a little better in the last few years, but they were still not exactly close.

"Um, hi Vicky," she said nervously.

"You look happy," she said, though she didn't take her eyes off of the television. "Sit down," she said, waving her hand at the couch in which Tootie noticed she clutched a beer can. Tootie crossed to room and sat as far away from Vicky as was humanly possible without being too obvious. "Scooch up!" Vicky said laughing. "I don't bite! Well, not anymore..." she added as an afterthought. Tootie giggled timidly and moved up a little. Vicky lifted a plate off of her lap which held a sandwich and shoved it under her sister's nose. "Want this?" she asked. "I don't seem to have the stomach for it tonight."

"Uh, thanks Vicky," Tootie replied, taking the plate and placing it on her own lap. Vicky took a swig of beer and rubbed her stomach with her free hand.

"So what are you so happy about?" Vicky asked, finally taking her eyes off whatever programme it was she was watching.

"Oh, nothing much," Tootie said, a pink tinge appearing on her cheeks.

"Don't lie to me," Vicky said, waggling her finger at her sister and grinning slyly. "Is it a boy?" Tootie blushed even deeeper. Tootie wasn't really used to sharing like this with her sister but if there were bridges to be built between the pair she was more than willing to grab bricks and mortar and get stuck in.

"Ok, but don't laugh," Tootie urged, wondering why she would say such a thing. Chester was _gorgeous_, so what was funny about being his girl? Or was it just the fact that Vicky was the type to laugh cruelly no matter what?

"Scouts honour," Vicky said, glancing back to the television briefly.

"Do you know Chester McBadbat?" she said, and yet still her mind refused to let her believe it. She was burning up so fast she felt as though she was going to faint.

"Twerpy blonde kid with braces?" Vicky said, squinting at her sister.

"Vicky, Chester hasn't had braces for five years," Tootie replied dryly. "And neither have I," she added for no apparent reason.

"So you haven't," Vicky conceded. "Continue."

"He told me he loved me today," Tootie said quickly. Surprisingly, Vicky smiled at her, before draining the rest of her beer and throwing the can to the floor. The dregs of the alcohol seemed to have a dark effect on the red head.

"Love, huh?" she spat viciously. Tootie squirmed nervously.

"Don't you... Aren't you pleased for me?" Vicky looked as though someone had slapped her. She got to her feet and rounded on her little sister, the rage of so many years ago returning to her face. Tootie flinched.

"Do you know what love is, little girl?" Vicky snarled, poking her finger hard into Tootie's chest. Tootie could smell the strong scent of beer on her breath, but she wasn't a little girl anymore. She wasn't going to succumb.

"I do," she replied evenly. "It's beautiful, and wonderful, and I'm lucky to even have it." Vicky gave Tootie and exasperated look and straightened up.

"You're living in a fanatsy!" she yelled at the walls. "Love is not a good thing, it just goes around masquerading as one so that we won't catch on to it. Love is like a spoilt child that screams and bitches until it gets what it wants, and if you don't give it to it there's so much hell to pay. I hate it! I hate it, I hate it and I don't want it anymore!" Tootie wanted to say something, anything, but no words came to mind. "It hurts so much! It's so stupid, and I know I never asked for it! It's not fair. And you, you come in here, rubbing your perfect love right in my face! It's alright for you!" Vicky growled, rounding on her sister again. "He loves you back, but me? Mine? Oh no, he'll never love me..." Vicky screamed and fell to the floor, feeling drunk and tired and utterly ashamed. "What's wrong with me?" she asked, looking at her sister with tears streaming down her ashen face. Tootie didn't know what to do, so she just knealt beside her sister and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Sssh," she hushed her. "It's ok Vicky, it's ok." Vicky sobbed for what seemed like an age, before shrugging off her sister's hand and getting to her feet.

"I, I should go to... bed," she said distantly, before trapsing out of the room without another word from Tootie. Tootie looked thoughtfully at her sister as she left, wondering who on earth could have gotten her in this state, her earlier feelings of elation now all but gone. The floor was covered in empty beer cans and spills and things which Vicky had clearly broken out of frustration. The place was a mess, a wasteland. A reflection of Vicky, Tootie thought sadly. She suddenly felt a hatred towards the love she had been singing the praises of earlier.

Perhaps, sometimes, it wasn't so great after all.


	5. Fire, Fires, Fired

**Chapter 5 - Fire, Fires, Fired**

Floorboards creaked under the young girl's bare feet, but she didn't even seem to notice. In her small, pale hands she clutched a note, hastily scribbled after a night's worth of hard thought, and nothing was going to stop her from pushing it underneath her sleeping sister's bedroom door. Tootie doubted that Vicky would be woken by the ancient floorboards; she was a heavy sleeper at the best of times, but something told Tootie it would be best to be well out of the house before Vicky had a chance to read her letter. She knealt down outside of Vicky's familiar door and pushed the note underneath it, her thin white nightgown riding up and making her feel a chill. Shivering she retreated back to her own room, bundled herself up into something warm, and set off for the library.

-

Why did Vicky feel so hot? Flames that surrounded her licked at her feet but seemed to be somewhere else altogether. When she put her hand out to touch them they were cold and strange, and definitely not where the heat was coming from. She squinted through the fires that surrounded her, looking for a way out but meeting only more flame. Tears flooded her eyes and a scream built itself up in her lungs, but then she saw it. A figure in the distance, walking slowly towards her. Vicky didn't have to wait that long to realise that the silhouette belonged to Timmy. She sighed heavily, doubting he would be her saviour. Above his head two brilliant white lights glowed and darted about one another, no bigger than Vicky's overused fist. She wanted to know what they were, but they were too bright to make out.

She wanted to turn away, but she could feel the flames creeping in, threatening to engulf her. Her eyes locked onto Timmy, who appeared not to have seen her, and she sighed and waited to be swallowed. He looked as though he were about to pass her by.

"Vicky?"

She hardly wanted to believe her ears. An instinct deep inside told her not to give herself away, but to yell and curse and tell him to leave. But he was her only chance, and though Vicky may have been depressed she was not suicidal.

"Help me Timmy," she said with pleading eyes. Timmy neared the flames cautiously, but with a determined look on his face. The two white lights opted to wait behind, and Vicky felt an irrational anger towards them. She felt, somehow, that they could help them both, but instead they were just sitting on the sidelines and letting Timmy struggle. Timmy reached out, and his fingertips brushed the flames. He pulled it back quickly.

"It's too hot," he told her. Vicky noticed that all was silent except for his voice.

"Not it isn't," she replied, and she put her hand straight in the flames to show him. He watched as she stood there for a moment, obviously not being burned, and he tried again. The flames scorched his fingers.

"It hurts too much, it's too dangerous," he said, looking at her with tears in his magnifcent blue eyes.

"It's ok," Vicky insisted in a desperate voice. "You can come through."

"I don't want to," he said, looking to the floor. "I'm scared."

"Of the fire?" Vicky asked.

"Of what's on the other side."

-

As usual, it was the need to vomit that roused Vicky from her drunken slumber. She rushed to the bathroom in her usual fashion, noticing something crinckled under her feet as she did so but she didn't pay it much attention. As she wiped her mouth, she thought of the dream she had just had and what it meant. The fire, she was certain, was her attitude and the mean way in which she had always treated Timmy, and though it obviously hurt him he clearly wasn't afraid of it. It was as though he was frightened to find out that there might be something more to someone as shallow and as cruel as Vicky. If she was honest, she had been rather frightened to find that out herself.

And then there were those two bright lights.

She stumbled back to her bedroom, knowing that she needed to find her clothes before she was late to work. The shower could wait for another day. Again, the paper crunched under her foot, but this time she was in no real hurry and took the time to pick it up. Her name was scrawled across the outside of the paper, which had been folded in half. Shrugging, she opened it up and read silently to herself.

_Vicky,_

_We're not exactly best friends, and I doubt we ever will be. I don't know why but I know it isn't our fault. But you are still my sister and I still love you, and I don't want you to be hurting._

_I don't know who's to blame for getting you so upset, and you don't have to tell me. It doesn't matter. I know you're smart enough to figure things out for yourself and the last thing you need is help from your little sister. But I don't think this is something you can solve with words or fists, and I don't think you do either._

_I'm not sure what to say, because I know I can't fix this for you._

_Just don't let it turn you into someone you'll hate. That's not the Vicky I know, and I know it's pathetic but that's all I have to say._

_Love,_

_Tootie_

Vicky screwed the note into a ball and threw it into her wastepaper basket, not giving it another thought for the rest of the day. She crossed her room and sat down on the edge of her bed, looking around on her bedroom floor for her shirt. She woke up an hour and half later.

-

"You're two hours late!"

Vicky hunched her shoulders and threw her bike helmet onto a nearby table. "Sorry Mr. Arnold," she said simply, walking up to the notice board and plucking down a delivery sheet. "Where first? McArthur Street?" Mr. Arnold, a short, balding man who always wore a string vest, bared his teeth at her.

"I don't like your attitude," he growled. Vicky gulped and stopped on her way to the door. Vicky's work record was not exactly perfect, but she had always seen Mr. Arnold as a fairly leniant boss who would let her tardiness slide from time to time. It never occured to her that one day she might push him too far.

"Um, I'm really sorry sir," she said, trying to sound as subservient as possible. It was very important to Vicky that she kept this job, especially as she was no longer babysitting Timmy.

"That's not good enough this time I'm afraid Vicky," Mr. Arnold said, looking almost sorry. Vicky swallowed thickly and picked up her bike helmet.

"What are you saying?" she asked nervously. Mr. Arnold ran his fingers through what was lft of his hair.

"I'm saying that after you finish out today it'd probably be better if you didn't come back tomorrow," he said sadly. Vicky stared at him.

"Please Mr. Arnold! I'll do better!" she begged, but Mr. Arnold just shook his head.

"Look Vicky, I'll level with you. I can't help but think you're a little too old to be delivering pizzas part time for a living. Losing this job could be exactly what you need. The Greenaway kid who just started, he's pretty nifty on his bike and still in high school. He was sniffing around fo some extra hours. You go out there and find something else Vicky, you're better than all this." Vicky nodded solemnly, knowing it would be useless to argue. "It's pretty quiet tonight," Mr. Arnold said as she headed out of the door. "I guess you'll only have about two or three more jobs tonight, tops."

It turned out Mr. Arnold was wrong, as Vicky only had one other job that night.

-

Timmy found that he still couldn't sleep, as he hadn't the night before. He had had so much on his mind that he couldn't even lie still. Cosmo and Wanda had stayed up with him for as long as they could, asking what was wrong and getting no answer, but eventually they had both given in to their fatigue and gone to bed. Timmy sat quietly on the windowsill and stared out to the empty street, thinking about Vicky and wondering why he even cared. A cat curled it's way up the street and slinked under his father's car.

His watch told him that it had just gone eleven o'clock. His stomach growled at him, and with a jolt Timmy realised that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He thought about going downstairs and getting a snack, his parents wouldn't mind as they were away visiting his grandma, but then it hit him. Picking up the phone he dialled a familiar number and ordered a pizza.

He sat nervously on his couch, with just a small lamp on in the corner to illuminate his living room. He wasn't sure what he was doign or even what he was going to say, but he knew his mind wouldn't let him rest until he found out what was wrong with Vicky. It seemed strange to him that nine years of torture was so easily forgotten in the face of a few moments crying in the middle of a shopping centre, but Timmy was at the age now where he knew better than to question people and their strange behaviour when it came to one another. The doorbell rang after what had seemed like no time at all, and Timmy got to his feet to open the door.

Tucked under her arm Vicky held a pizza box, while her other hand held her crash helmet. Her face was set in a familiar expression of rage and scorn, an expression that Timmy didn't buy for a second. She scowled at him and held up the square box. "One twelve inch pepperoni, $14.95," she said dryly, not meeting his eyes. Timmy plunged his hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew his wallet.

"Oh no," he said faintly, in a voice that was obviously lying. "All my cash must be upstairs. Come in Vicky, it's freezing out. I won't be a sec." Vicky growled at him and wanted to say that she would rather be anywhere else, but a small sense of longing within her caused her to step over the threshold and into the warmth of Timmy's living room. She allowed herself a small grin when Timmy's back was turned, loving the way that his house felt so much like home.

Timmy thumped down the stairs a second later, holding nothing in his hands that he hadn't had when he had gone up there. Vicky got to her feet and held out her hand. "Can we make this quick Twerp?" she said with a sigh. "I'm real busy tonight."

"You do look a bit run down," Timmy said offhandedly, making out as though he was still searching for his wallet. Vicky's old meaness routine snapped into gear.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, curling her hands into fists. Timmy shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, you know, you just look tired, and yesterday you were bawling your eyes out from the strain," Timmy said lightly. Vicky gasped.

"How did you... what are you talking about?" she snapped, her heart fluttering wildly. Couldn't he tell how much it was killing her just to be in his presence?

"In the mall," Timmy said simply. "You were standing out side of the coffee shop, crying." He noticed that her hair still hadn't been brushed, but it was loosly tied back today.

"What? I wasn't!" she said, but she knew in her heart that it was pointless to deny it. Timmy sat down on his couch, and against all sense and reasoning, Vicky felt herself doing the same. "I got fired," she said humbly.

"Oh," Timmy said, wondering why losing her job would make Vicky cry so much. "You could always get another one," he suggested.

"I suppose," Vicky replied, feeling no desire to mean at all now, just the need to get out of there, go home, and drink the last of her beer.

"That's not all there is, is there?" Timmy asked. Vicky fixed him with a cold glare.

"Why would I tell you anything Twerp," she sneered, feeling the familiar need to hurt him for making her love him again. "What would you know?"

"Nothing," Timmy said quickly, sensing danger. "I just meant that perhaps if you told me, I might be able to help." Vicky snorted.

"Shut up Turner, you only want to know what's wrong so you can get off on it. Go to Hell, I'm not here to entertain you." Timmy winced at her words and got to his feet, feeling an ill-placed anger build in his chest.

"For crying out loud Vicky, I was trying to help you!" he shouted at the red head, who recoiled in her seat. "All you ever do is go around hurting people and never letting anyone in!" He stormed to his door and threw it wide, indicating that she should leave. She got to her feet and offered him a sorry look. "Just tell me," he said softly as she stepped outside.

"No," she replied deifantly.

"Fine then!" Timmy shouted, slamming his door and wondering why Vicky was getting him so worked up. She stood limpy outside of his door, wanting to move but finding she couldn't. From behind the door she heard a muffled shouting.

"You're not just fire you know!"

Vicky slammed her fists against the door. "How would you know!" she yelled, in spite of herself. "You're too scared to find out!" She stormed up the garden path and stopped sadly at the gate, flicking her eyes back to the Turner household.

"I'm sorry Timmy," she whispered so that no one would ever hear. "Um, love you," she said simply, swinging her leg over the saddle of her bike and speeding off into the night.

On the pathway, a green beetle opened it's eyes wide in shock.

-

**A/N: Just saw Cosmo and Wanda's love song on 'School's Out' for the first time ever. There's not an appropriate word for how cute it is, so I'll go with "squeeeeawww."**


	6. Rain

**Chapter 6 – Rain**

Cosmo sat silently on the window sill, wishing that the heavens would open and cascade their rain upon the dirty earth. He often felt this way about his home away from home, like it could use a good scrubbing and a healthy dose of innocence. There was just _so much_ wrong with the planet, so much pain and hurt that the population chose to inflict upon each other. As if humans weren't fragile enough, needing so much to survive and always coming up short. As if life wasn't hard enough for them already. Cosmo had tried to understand it a thousand times, but he had never managed to. He stared at the sky and sighed. There wasn't a cloud to be seen.

The rain always helped him think, too. Cosmo knew that he wasn't the smartest guy ever to come out of Fairy World, but his heart was always in the right place. He always knew what had to be done to make those he loved happy; he just didn't know how to go about doing it. The rain reminded him of the one time Cosmo had known he had been absolutely right, the only point in his life when he had ever been certain. It reminded him of the first time he ever met Wanda.

-

It was raining hard, and Wanda and her friend had ducked into the diner just to escape the weather for a little bit. They had dived into the first empty booth they saw and shook their hair, despite the fact that they could have dried themselves with their wands in seconds. Cosmo had been behind the counter, wiping glasses dry when the two girls burst in. His eyes hadn't left Wanda once, and for some crazy reason that he couldn't quite understand, his feet seemed to be carrying him towards the pink-haired beauty. His head screamed at him to turn back, but Cosmo had a hard time hearing it over the booming voice of his heart.

"Take your order?" he asked in a squeaky voice, addressing the question to the napkin dispenser and hoping that his pimples weren't too prominent under the fluorescent lights. Wanda's friend had giggled, but Wanda herself just stared at the nervous fairy, as though trying to place where she had seen him before.

"Two chocolate shakes please," Wanda had replied, in a sweet voice that reminded Cosmo of silk. Cosmo had only touched silk once in his life, it had been his daddy's tie, but he would never forget. With a nervous smile Cosmo had disappeared back behind the counter, the relief washing over him like water, but it was quickly replaced by disappointment. If that was the only exchange he and that beautiful girl ever shared, he almost knew that he would never be happy again. He grabbed two clean glasses, the cleanest ones, he remembered, and filled them from the machine, taking his time and yet wishing he could just hurry up.

He walked carefully back to Wanda's table, careful not to spill a drop of their drinks. He had a strange sense in his stomach that Wanda wouldn't take kindly to such a reckless abuse of chocolate. He smiled, slightly, and it caught Wanda's eye. It almost forced her to smile back.

"Here are your shakes," he said nervously, and Wanda's friend giggled. Wanda fixed her with a frown, and then looked back to Cosmo.

"Thanks, uh… Cosmo," Wanda replied, still smiling and squinting at Cosmo's name badge. Suddenly, a dawning of realisation came over her face. "Hey, Cosmo! I know you from school!" she said suddenly. Cosmo smiled. Somehow he had never noticed this amazing beauty but she had taken the time to notice him. She even knew his name. His heart fluttered and felt as though it would burst.

"Um, yeah," he said slowly, feeling utterly stupid. "From school." Wanda smiled, but even Cosmo could tell that she was wishing she hadn't said anything. The conversation had dwindled into an uncomfortable silence before it had even gotten started, and as Cosmo watched Wanda stir her drink with her straw he knew that he couldn't have felt lower.

"Did you want something?" Wanda's friend cut in suddenly. Cosmo looked up, hurt.

"No," he said quietly, shuffling back to the counter. "Nothing at all."

Cosmo still kept his eyes on Wanda while she and her friend drained their drinks. The rain was still pouring down heavily, so neither girl was making much of an effort to be finished with their shakes. Cosmo didn't know that he could feel heartbroken so soon after he had fallen in love, but he knew that it was love. It sounded crazy, even to Cosmo, to think that he had fallen head over heels for a girl he had only met properly five minutes before, but he just knew. He could_ feel_ it.

The bell over the door of the diner gave a cheerful little tinkle, and that light sound was the beginning of the worst year of Cosmo's life. A masculine, handsome fairy floated into the diner, the charm radiating from him in waves and making every single girl look up from their meals. Cosmo snorted. He had seen men like that before, men who were far too in love with themselves to ever give their heart to someone else, and Cosmo knew that they only went out with the girls with more beauty than brains. Or at least, he thought he knew that.

"Wandissamo!" Cosmo blinked his eyes at the love of his life. There was no chance that a woman as beautiful and smart and kind as Wanda could want anything to do with this narcissistic beefcake. It was only when Wandissamo planted a wet kiss on Wanda's cheek in front of a dozen pairs of jealous female eyes that Cosmo knew he was wrong. Very wrong. Wanda did just know Wandissamo, she was _dating_ him.

For every day that passed since the day Wanda and he had first met, Cosmo's love for the pink-haired girl grew and grew. It filled his heart so much that it hurt just to look at her, and there wasn't a waking moment in his life when the fairy didn't fill his thoughts. He stopped being able to sleep, he went right off of his food, and he couldn't hold his head up anymore. Everything he did was about Wanda, and nothing else seemed to matter. It nearly killed him to watch her in the arms of Wandissamo, loving someone he could never be. There was no chance of him giving up though, no chance of him ever shutting his eyes to Wanda. She was the one for him, he was certain, and if that meant he had to suffer alone for the rest of his life then so be it.

-

Cosmo rested his chin in his hands and listened to his wife breathe gently behind him. He tried to think about how it would feel if Wanda ever left him, but he couldn't take it. The pain in his chest was so great that he felt as though he was being crushed. There were tears in his eyes.

"That must be how Vicky feels," he mused quietly.

"What did you say sweetie?" Wanda murmured sleepily behind him. Cosmo grinned. Wanda was his wife, she loved him. In the end he had won her heart from that moron Wandissamo, and he hoped that she had never looked back. But what if he hadn't? What if Wanda had never given Cosmo the chance to prove his love to her and stayed with Wandissamo? Would he still be alone? Probably. Would he be wasting away, hidden in some dirty room praying for the pain to stop like Vicky was?

Probably, because true love never leaves you behind. It stays with you forever.

"Nothing Wanda," he replied softly, and he heard the relived sigh of someone who desperately hoped it would be nothing so that they could get back to sleep. He wondered briefly why he didn't tell Wanda what he had heard Vicky say on the path, but he knew the answer almost instantly. Wanda had never felt it. She didn't know what it was like to love someone so much that it was killing you, because they didn't love you back. She didn't know how much it hurt to have your feelings dismissed as though they were nothing but a silly crush when you knew that there could never be another. Cosmo knew it all too well.

Cosmo buried his chin back into one hand and with the other he raised his wand above his head. He wanted to make rain clouds, but Timmy hadn't wished for it. Defeated, he lowered his wand again. Cosmo was no good and figuring things out by himself. Perhaps he should have told Wanda, she could have helped him, or told him what it would be best to do.

_Timmy would never love Vicky, just forget it Cosmo._

That's what Wanda would have said. She would have said that Vicky had tortured Timmy too much for his feelings towards her to ever change, and though some defeatist part of Cosmo was forced to agree he just didn't want to believe it. When Vicky had whispered her gentle confession Cosmo had heard echoes of his own voice, certain that he loved Wanda even if he couldn't have her.

He had to admit that he wasn't particularly fond of Vicky, or at least he hadn't been. Her cruelty to Timmy when he was younger had been so severe that even the kindest man would have had trouble finding sympathy for her. But in her older years Vicky had changed. Not just in her attitude towards Timmy but in every aspect of her life. She wasn't the bully she used to be, her voice was softer and her fists were seldom used. Cosmo recognised the signs. It was only love that could have done that to a person.

And perhaps Timmy could be happy too.

It wasn't Trixie Tang, not by a long shot, but Cosmo knew that Timmy wasn't in love with Trixie Tang. He might have claimed he was, but he functioned far too well for that to be true. He had a fine appetite and he slept like a log. No one in love with someone who didn't care about them could have done that. Cosmo checked the clock. It was almost four in the morning, and he would have bet everything he owned that Vicky was still awake.

Cosmo knew he wasn't smart. He knew he wasn't sophisticated. But he felt that the time had come for him to stand on his own two feet and find a way to make something amazing happen. There was no one he could tell who would understand, he just knew it. Not Wanda, not his mother, no one. Cosmo had to do this alone.

Helping Vicky was not something Cosmo thought he could have ever done. He didn't know where to begin, what to do, but he knew that if he didn't do something soon the damage would be irreversible. Vicky was a mess, all over Timmy. She couldn't handle this feeling at all.

A fine sheet of rain began to fall from the sky. Cosmo smiled, and felt that even though what he had so desired had now arrived, it really was time to go to bed. He snuck under the covers as quietly as he could, trying his best not to disturb his sleeping wife. To his surprise, however, it was the pink-haired fairy that snaked her arm around her husband's waist without so much as opening an eye, and Cosmo noted with a contented sigh that being in Wanda's arms was the safest place on earth.

**A/N: Sorry, I know this has taken forever. Sky.**


	7. Green

**Chapter 7 - Green**

Vicky threw her hand out across the vacant side of her double bed. The void there screamed at her, forcing her eyes open on yet another day. As she ran her fingers through her tangled hair, she was aware that she was not hung over at all. Not a drop of liquid had passed her lips the night before, as it hadn't for the past week, ever since that meeting with Timmy. He hadn't tried to call her again, and it hadn't even crossed her mind to try and see him. Vicky wasn't the type to skulk around, hidden in the bushes. She was the type to hide herself away while her world crumbled around her.

She got to her feet, the night gown she had borrowed from her sister falling to just above her knees. Vicky was much taller than Tootie, and she always would be, but it was the kind of height you just couldn't notice, in case she noticed you back. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms, before walking over to her cluttered dressing table.

Empty beer bottles still stood on the once polished wood, which was now ringed with water marks. To an outsider it may have looked as though Vicky had finally gotten her act together and quit drinking, but this was not the case. Since losing her job all her income had dried up, as most people didn't want a babysitter who showed up to work already half cut. Vicky missed the alcohol very much. It didn't help her forget, far from it, but in her mind it made it better, at least for a little while. It was easier to pretend that everything was going to be ok when you had a distorted view of the world. Now she was going to bed every night stone cold sober, finding that it was impossible to make the fantasies of Timmy in her arms come. Instead she fell into fretful dozes, something the alcohol had always helped her with too.

Between weak fingers she picked up her hairbrush and began raking out the tangles on her head. Vicky had no sense of vanity or pride when it came to her looks, not anymore. There was no one left to impress. What she was doing was merely just force of habit, the desire to have a routine in her life that didn't consist of crying, drinking and wanting to die. She sighed heavily, and her reflection sighed back.

Summer was well and truly upon the city of Dimsdale now. The sun glared through Vicky's curtains, and she was most surprised by herself when she didn't turn away. Instead she got up from the little padded stool and walked over to the window, the scent of the honeysuckle in her neighbour's garden drawing her in even more. She pulled back the curtains slowly, not yet ready to expose herself to the world but willing to show that she wanted to try. Golden light streamed in through her window, bathing her room in a glow it hadn't seen for too long.

Vicky smiled.

And then she gasped. Her garden, which was usually just a large expanse of grass surrounded by fences, was filled with flowers. Not a patch of lawn could be seen through the petals and the stalks and the leaves. What surprised Vicky the most, however, was the fact that every single flower was green. Light green orchids stood proudly on the boarder, pale mint roses were dotted about everywhere, small geraniums had their grass green heads butted gently at by bees. Even the daisy's had dark green centres instead of the usual yellow. Vicky shook her head. Had it really been so long since she took a look at the world outside of herself that she didn't realise what her father had done to the garden? It was beautiful, and it made Vicky feel especially serene.

After what seemed like hours of staring at the strange garden, Vicky finally pulled herself away and faced her room once more. The sight was a definite contrast. Her room was a mess. There were dirty clothes littering the floor, scraps of paper and old magazines everywhere, it was a tip. Vicky sighed and managed to pick her usual clothes out of the pile. Pulling them on, she felt the feeling of peace draining away to be replaced with the usual feeling of misery. Now that she had taken her eyes away from the flowers, thoughts of Timmy filled her head once more, specifically the thoughts of how he wasn't hers. She closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling, before shaking her head and setting off downstairs.

When she got to the staircase she saw Tootie, perched about halfway down them and staring intently at the front door.

"Morning Vicky," she muttered as her sister ambled past. Tootie had noticed the change in Vicky recently. She wasn't drinking anymore, which, although Tootie knew was a good thing, it had somehow magnified the gloom that surrounded Vicky everyday. Her anguish was that much worse when her head wasn't clouded with toxins to distract her from her pain. She flinched, wondering how Vicky would respond.

"Morning Toot," the red head replied calmly. Although Timmy still occupied her thoughts day and night, there was a new thought vying for space too now. The thought of the garden, and what seeing it had done to her. It was as though all the anger she felt towards Timmy and the love she had for him had drained away, and now all that she was left with was a deep sadness. It wasn't better, by any means. At least when she had the anger she had felt something. Now all she felt was like giving up, the emptiness in her heart taking up more space than real emotions ever could.

"How're you feeling?" Tootie asked her sister. Vicky paused at the foot of the stairs but didn't say anything.

"Do you want to come to the mall with me today?" Tootie asked, changing her tactics. Vicky couldn't help but pick up on the note of sadness in her voice. Yesterday she wouldn't have noticed but today... Today was different.

"Isn't Chester taking you?" Vicky replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"He's supposed to be," the raven haired girl said slowly. "But he's late." Vicky cocked an eyebrow at her little sister.

"Late?" she repeated. As quick as a flash, the anger was back. _Look at her! _a voice inside Vicky screamed. _Look at what love has done to her! Waiting on the stairs desperately hugging her knees for a guy who's probably shacked up with some other bimbo right now! This is love? This is sick._

"He probably stopped by at Timmy's or something," Tootie replied with a shrug. If she noticed the way Vicky flinched when she said Timmy's name, she didn't mention it.

"Or something," Vicky said slowly, her eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?" Tootie said, a little worried. Vicky shook her head and sighed.

"Look," she said in a stiff voice. "I would go with the mall to you, but I really don't feel up to it. Maybe some other time, huh?" Tootie was astounded. Vicky had never been this civil to her in their entire life, and this was possibly the longest conversation they had ever had when Vicky was sober. She nodded slowly and watched her sister plod down the hall to the kitchen.

"Feel better," she called out softly after her sister's retreating back.

-

Vicky opened the door to her back garden and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine. Again she felt that feeling of peace lingering softly on the edges of her mind, and as she threaded her feet between the flowers she was willing to let in engulf her entirely. Morning dew seeped between her toes as she continued to walk down to the far end of the garden, away from her house and her life, just for a little while. It was probably her imagination playing tricks on her, but Vicky could have sworn that the flowers swayed to watch her as she walked. _It's probably just the wind_, she thought, strangely alert to the fact that the air was perfectly still.

At the end of the garden she came across something she had not spotted before from her bedroom window. A bench, painted in a light green colour, stood timidly in a patch of grass that the flowers had not been able to touch. Vicky smiled and sat down, watching the bees buzz noisily from one plant to the next. It was funny, but when she was here things didn't seem so bad. Yes, she was still in love with Timmy and yes, it hurt like hell, but for the first time in her life she knew that there was a chance that it could get better. That it wouldn't always be like this. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the bench.

Her eyes snapped open again, and with a second's panic Vicky realised that she didn't know where she was. The ground beneath her bare feet seemed to be made of clouds. Fluffy white shapes that her brain told her she should have fallen right through, and yet they seemed capable of supporting her weight. She walked forward, looking around at nothing but a vast expanse of blue for miles around.

"Hello?" she called, though her unrestricted vision yielded no one to her. "Hello?" she called again. There was a faint ping that sounded as though it came from somewhere far off in the distance.

"Are you lost, Miss?" came a cheerful male voice. Vicky spun around. Before her stood a man, a little taller than she was, with messy green hair. He was wearing thin black trousers, and a white shirt with a black tie. His smile lit up his large green eyes like beacons, and it was so infectious that Vicky couldn't help but smile too. His hand were clasped behind his back, and he was rocking backwards and forwards on the tip of his toes.

"A little lost, yeah," Vicky said with a nervous laugh. "Can you help me?"

"Well, that all depends on where you're going," the man replied.

"I want to go home," Vicky said earnestly.

"Where's that?" the man asked. Vicky reeled off her address from memory, but the man lowered his head, although he kept smiling.

"Yes, but where is home _really_?" he asked, lifting his head back up.

"I just told you," Vicky said, with the smallest tone of impatience in her voice.

"Did you?" the man asked simply, before disappearing with a small pop.

"Wait, come back!" Vicky called to the vacant air. Nothing happened. Vicky screwed up her eyes in frustration.

And when she opened them again, she was back in the garden. She shook her head slightly, and looked down to the ground. A small green bird was sitting on her foot, looking up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Get lost," she growled at it. The bird didn't move. She sighed and flicked her foot, watching as the bird took flight and soared off into the distance. She thought back to her dream.

"Home," she whispered faintly. Suddenly, her thoughts were with her sister. How long had she been asleep? Was Tootie still waiting on the stairs? She got to her feet and raced up the garden, throwing open the back door and pounding up the hall. She checked the clock on the wall. She'd been asleep in the garden for a whole hour, it was a miracle she wasn't sunburned.

Tootie was still waiting on the stairs, with her head in her hands.

"Hey, Toot," Vicky said sweetly. Tootie's head snapped up. That was the second time Vicky had called her Toot today. Tootie remembered the days, when she was younger before Vicky had changed, when her big sister used that nickname for her all the time. It used to make both girls explode into fits of giggles.

"Hey Vicky," Tootie replied. Tootie had never given her sister a nickname before; she hadn't dared.

"Still not shown up huh?" Vicky asked as she slipped on her shoes.

"No," Tootie whispered sadly.

"Never mind," Vicky said, grabbing her sister's hand and pulling her to her feet. "You still want to come to the mall with me? I mean, I know I'm no Chester and you know, won't be holding your hand or smooching you or anything..."

"Gross," Tootie said, laughing a little.

"Come on," Vicky said, throwing open the front door. "Who needs boys?"

Her jaw dropped when she saw Chester and Timmy standing on the other side of it, both wearing identical apologetic grins. The first thing that both girls noticed was that Timmy's arm was in a sling.

"Sorry I'm late," Chester said, taking Tootie's hand. Vicky turned away from the door, feeling as though the slight promise of feeling better had been snatched away from her at the last minute. It was a cruel joke.

"Vicky wait!" Tootie called. "You could still come," she said, oblivious to both Chester and Timmy shaking their heads frantically.

"No, I-" Vicky said, forcing every word over the lump in her throat.

"Come on, please Vicky," Tootie begged. Vicky paused, her hand on the stair rail. A small green ladybug was making it's way up her arm. It seemed to pause when it sensed her looking at it. Vicky sighed.

"Ok," she said, even though she wasn't sure why. When that door had opened, you could have cut the tension between Timmy and Vicky with a knife.

-

**A/N: This story and I have issues. I can't pretend that from here on out it will be any good because there's something about it that I don't understand yet I am trying to write it anyway, if that makes any sense. It will, most definitely, decisively and... er... gramatically, be finished, but it might suck rather hard. I'm not going to rush it, and I will try my best with every single chapter. Once it is finished I will go back and try and fix everything that I did wrong. So thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story and yes, I will shut up now. -Sky.**


	8. Human After All

**Chapter 8 - Human After All**

"What happened to your arm, Timmy?" Tootie asked in a quiet voice. Chester shot her a look that told her she shouldn't have asked. Timmy looked down to the ground and mumbled something under his breath.

"Oh," Tootie said, as though she had heard him perfectly.

-

_It had been two days since the incident with Vicky. It was still weighing heavily on Timmy's mind as he walked home through the darkened streets of Dimsdale. Timmy felt uncomfortable that he was spending so much time worrying about Vicky and how she was feeling. As far as he was concerned she was nothing to do with him anymore. He could have severed all ties with the girl the second his parents cancelled her services, but he hadn't. He had seen that she was hurting and he had tried to reach out to her. Despite everything she had done to him, all the pain she had put him through, he was trying to cure hers. And she had turned him away. She had shouted in the face of his charity, and as far as Timmy cared, that was it. He no longer needed to think about her, to remember her, to let her have any impact on his mind whatsoever._

_So why couldn't he stop thinking about her?_

_He walked slowly up his garden path, rooting around in the pocket of his jeans for his door keys. He pulled them out, and with them came a small piece of paper._

_One twelve inch pepperoni, $14.95._

_It was the receipt from the other night. Feelings stirred in Timmy's chest, feelings that he wasn't used to. He was used to being angry at Vicky, but it was usually because of all the things she did to him. He wasn't used to being angry at Vicky for being sad. She had no right to be sad! Who did she think she was, feeling down and cracking up, and showing the whole world that she was human too? At least she had had the decency to try to cover it up, but that just made it more apparent to Timmy that he was looking at her harder than most people. He had noticed that she wasn't fine when the rest of the world just passed her by._

_Just like it always did. Because girls like Vicky don't deserve to be noticed. They don't deserve anything._

_And then Timmy thought; Vicky definitely didn't deserve this._

_Despite everything she had done, all the torment and the teasing and, yes, the heartache he was feeling now, Vicky didn't deserve to be miserable. And Timmy knew why. She wasn't a bad person. She was mean spirited and superficial and even though these traits of hers went a fair way down, Timmy knew that Vicky would always come through at the end. Somewhere in the not to distant future Timmy had felt that one day Vicky would realise the error of her ways and try to atone for everything she had done. Because that was what good people did. And Vicky was a good person._

_He slid his key into the door and walked up to his room without even stopping to check if his parents were home. He was almost certain they wouldn't be. Timmy spent a lot of his evenings alone now, and every so often he would find himself missing Vicky's company. The times, especially in recent years, when she was there, in house. Often in a different room but it was her reassuring presence that made Timmy feel safe. It felt silly to him really, a seventeen year old boy still being afraid of the sounds that his house made as it settled, but he was. It was so vast, and so big and even though Cosmo and Wanda were around during the day, they now spent the evenings back at Fairy World, reporting to Jorgen and always trying to buy just a little more time._

_Even though he had seen her since, Timmy couldn't shake the image of Vicky crying in the mall from his mind. He had never seen the girl looking so vulnerable and so lost. When she had turned up at his house, the same haunted look still filled her eyes, but there was also the attitude of defiance that used to go hand in hand with Vicky. It was as though she had pulled it up from the depths of her soul when she went to his house because now she knew that the world was watching. _

_Timmy wanted not to care. He wanted to not have these feelings for Vicky._

_It wasn't love, or lust, or desire, or anything warm and fuzzy like what was in the books his mother kept on the top shelf of her bookcase. It was pity, and sadness, and helplessness and, most of all, understanding. Timmy understood not why Vicky was hurting, but that she did. That she could. Timmy understood just how fragile Vicky really was._

_Deep down he had always known that she was. He'd always known that she would be the quickest to break down out of everyone. Because, when push came to shove and real emotions turned up on Vicky's doorstep, she couldn't cope. Timmy knew that Vicky was feeling something, be it guilt or regret or whatever it was, and it was killing her. Because she had never felt it before. Most people grow up full of negative emotions towards things they had done, but Vicky had never let hers in. She'd ignored them until they went away, but now Timmy thought that perhaps they were catching her up._

_Timmy flung himself onto his bed and closed his eyes. He wondered how long it was going to take for this feeling to go away. Never, perhaps, until Vicky was feeling better. Timmy let out a small, mirthless laugh. Once upon a time Vicky's happiness had depended on Timmy feeling sad, and now his depended on her feeling better. It was funny, really, the way things turned out. _

_There was a small green 'poof' beside him, and Cosmo appeared, wearing a grin that was not as wide as usual._

"_Hey Timmy," he said in a not-so-cheerful voice._

"_Hey Cosmo, where's Wanda?" Timmy asked._

"_She's still in Fairy World. Jorgen said he'll give us more time if she gives him a pedicure." Both of them wrinkled their noses. "I know it's not nice, but he's willing to do it. I don't think it's just because of the pedicure either."_

"_You think he wants you to stay here with me?" Timmy asked hopefully._

"_No," Cosmo admitted, trying not to look at Timmy as his heart sank. "I think he just wants you to feel better." In the darkest part of his soul, something evil raised it's head. If Vicky felt the way she did forever, then Cosmo and Wanda would never have to leave._

_But Timmy was a good person. He shook his head._

"_How are you feeling," Cosmo asked nervously._

"_Really... bad, I guess," Timmy said. Cosmo was his godfather, and one of his best friends, and yet he felt that he couldn't tell him anything. He knew Cosmo, and how Cosmo would react if he told him that his head was full of thoughts of Vicky. He would laugh, and tease, and Timmy really didn't need that. But he couldn't help but feeling that he needed someone like a father figure to talk to, to help him figure everything out, and Cosmo was as close to that as Timmy could get._

"_Why bad?" Cosmo asked in a worried voice. He sat down next to Timmy on his bed._

"_If you must know," Timmy said with a small sigh. "It's about a girl."_

"_Trixie?" Cosmo said automatically._

"_Um... no," Timmy replied nervously. Cosmo shut his eyes and Timmy watched him. The small green fairy seemed to be gearing himself up for something._

"_Is it Vicky?" he asked in a quiet voice. Timmy stared at Cosmo in wide-eyed shock. It had never occurred to him that Cosmo could be insightful about things of such a sensitive nature. And then it hit him._

_Wanda._

_Cosmo had struggled through so much to be with her. He loved her with all his heart, a heart which had been tugged and pulled and broken so many times before he got his girl. He had seen her hate him, seen her need him, seen her love him and seen her leave him. He knew about the constant war with Wandissamo for Wanda's heart, a war that he had only won after sustaining some heavy injuries. Cosmo might not know much about logic or life, but when it came to feelings he was pretty much an expert._

"_Yeah," Timmy said meekly. "Vicky."_

"_I heard you two rowing the other night," Cosmo confessed. "I couldn't help it."_

"_What should I do, Cosmo? Why does it matter to me how she feels?"_

"_Maybe you care about her," Cosmo suggested. Timmy forced out a laugh, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel that his godfather was on to something. The something which Timmy had been avoiding admitting to himself for so long. He did care about Vicky, more than he ever thought he could. He wouldn't call her friend, not by a long shot, but he wouldn't call her an enemy either. He would call her someone he just needed to know was alright._

"_I saw her crying, the other day at the mall," Timmy said. "She looked so different, so -"_

"_Human?" Timmy stared at Cosmo._

"_Yeah. Underneath all that meanness it turns out there's a girl! Who would have thought it? One who eats and sleeps and cries when she's hurting."_

"_Sometimes people surprise you," Cosmo said simply._

"_I never thought Vicky would," Timmy said._

"_That's why they call it a surprise," Cosmo said with a grin. Timmy grinned back and shut his eyes again. Thoughts flooded into Timmy's brain. If he could just make sure that she was alright, just for now, then maybe he could get some sleep. If he could just see that she was going to survive until morning, then maybe he wouldn't have to spend all night worrying that she wouldn't. He got to his feet._

"_Where are you going?" Cosmo asked. _

"_Just out," Timmy said, striding out of his room._

"_Me too," Cosmo whispered when he was certain Timmy was gone._

_-_

_Timmy walked quickly to Vicky's house, checking his watch as he went. It had just gone past midnight. He thought of knocking on the door, but he stopped himself in time. He didn't want Vicky to know he was there, that might just lead to another shouting match. He just wanted to see if she was ok._

_He crept round the back of her house to her garden and leapt over the fence. The damp grass squelched under his feet as he strode up to the back of Vicky's house. Her garden was so plain, just an expanse of lawn with nothing in it. Timmy sighed at it, paying no mind to the small green bird that watched him with interest from atop the fence._

_A trellis climbed up the back of Vicky's house, stopping just underneath her bedroom window. Faint lamplight shone out from the gap in Vicky's curtains. With a determined expression on his face, Timmy began to climb up the latticed wood. _

_Timmy wasn't really afraid of heights, but he was worried about how well the trellis could hold his weight. He reached to top, heaving himself up just a little higher by hanging onto Vicky's window ledge. He peered through the gap and into a room he hadn't seen for almost seven years._

_Vicky sat hunched on her bed, with her back to the window. She was wearing a very dainty and, Timmy noticed, quite revealing nightdress. It didn't look as though the skimpiness had been intentional though. The nightdress was simply to small for her. Timmy wished that he could see her face. _

_Her hair had been brushed, and much to Timmy's happiness it had also been tied back into it's usual ponytail. Timmy smiled, but stopped quickly when he noticed that the girl's shoulders were shaking. _

"_Vicky?" he whispered to the glass, even though he knew she wouldn't hear him. _

_Vicky got to her feet and headed to the window. Timmy tried to duck down, but Vicky had only come over to open the window. She didn't notice him at all. _

_Timmy gasped as he saw the tears rolling down her face. They weren't coming fast, by any means, but they were constant. Always there. Timmy sighed as he looked up at Vicky, who ran her hand over her hair and sat down on her bed. She stayed facing the window this time, with her hands placed gently in her lap. Timmy watched as she picked up something from her nightstand, and he stood on his tiptoes to see what it was. It was a small teddy bear._

_Something creaked under Timmy's foot, and just before he fell he could have sworn that he saw Vicky look up and mouth the words 'I love you' to the empty air._


	9. After Hours

**A/N: I'm the first to admit that this chapter starts a little badly, but towards the end it turns into something I'm almost, -gulp-, proud of. So stick with it and I (sort of) guarantee you'll like the last bit of this chapter here. - Sky.**

**Chapter 9 – After Hours**

It was five minutes from closing, yet the mall was surprisingly sparse on people. Usually the stores would be crammed with people trying to get their last few moments of retail therapy, but as the sun began to gently dip beneath the horizon the crowd in the Dimsdale Mall could be described as straggly at best. Despite all this, however, Timmy Turner still remained.

Tootie and Chester had left a long, long time ago, with Chester desperately trying to calm his girlfriend's temper. It had been a long, arduous day for them all Timmy thought, and nothing had really been accomplished. It hadn't exactly started out full of promise anyway, Timmy knew that the second her heard Vicky agree to still come along to the mall with them. He could tell from her face that she didn't really know why she was saying yes, but she had and the damage was done. In fact, the only one who seemed at all pleased by the turn of events was Tootie, who seemed to think that integrating Vicky into lives which she had already destroyed was a good thing.

The red head didn't say a word on the way to the mall, despite her sister's cajoling, and her attempts to get Timmy to confess to how he had hurt his arm was just getting on his nerves. Thankfully Chester, who only knew half the story himself, was better at reading Timmy and tried his best to divert Tootie's attention. Unfortunately, this had meant the young couple going on ahead while Timmy lagged behind, with Vicky holding back even further. Anyone who spotted them would never have guessed that they were supposed to be travelling together, and in a way, they weren't. Each one of them was far too absorbed in their own world to realise anything that happened around them.

To look at her, and to have known her for all these years, Timmy wouldn't have said that Tootie had a temper. He had always thought of her as quiet, polite, and kind. The exact opposite, in fact, of her terrifying older sister. However, after today Timmy was beginning to realise that some traits just went right down to the bone. The fiery temper that Vicky possessed resided somewhere under Tootie's sweet exterior, and it had reared it's ugly head today. Timmy swallowed as he traipsed through the near deserted mall, trying to shake off the memory but finding himself unable to block such unexpected rage from his mind.

"_Hey Tootie?" The group looked up, shocked. It was pretty much the only sound they had heard Vicky make all day._

"_Um, yes Vicky?" said Tootie, in the voice of someone trying and failing to cover up the sound of how awkward they felt._

"_I just need to go to the bathroom, ok?" Tootie's face had fallen then. She had obviously been hoping that Vicky was going to say something meaningful, something that showed she wanted to be part of the group dynamic. Something that showed she was willing to be accepted. Timmy couldn't help but pity Tootie a little. He knew that Vicky didn't want charity; he knew that she didn't want people to reach out to her. A wave of bitterness washed over Timmy at that point. If Vicky wanted to stay in the dark pit of despair that she had fallen into, then so be it. He wasn't going to stick his neck out for someone who'd just bite his head off anyway._

"_Um, ok Vicky," Tootie had replied._

_After fifteen minutes of standing outside of the mall's bathrooms, Timmy and Chester had noticed that Tootie was getting restless on her feet. While they both knew it was possible that the queue was just long, or that there might be only one stall with paper or something, deep down they all knew the truth._

_Vicky had skipped out._

_Tootie had gone into the bathroom, but just as a formality. She told them when she came out that the bathroom was completely empty, with her eyes to the floor as she apologised for her sister's behaviour. Chester tried to reassure her while at the same time Timmy really thought it was no loss, although he didn't say it out loud. It wouldn't have mattered if he had though, as it looked like Tootie wouldn't have heard him anyway. He was shocked to see that she was trembling, still with her eyes cast down to the floor._

"_Tootie, are you-" he began, but was promptly cut off._

"_She always does this!" Tootie shouted to no one in particular._

"_Uh, does she?" Timmy stammered, a little shocked that this was the first time he had ever heard Tootie raise her voice except to squeal. It really was quite terrifying, and so shaded with overtones of Vicky that Timmy was forced to recoil a little bit. Chester stood steadfast however; his girlfriend was his girlfriend, adorable to angry._

"_I mean, she so unreliable! She never thinks about anyone except herself!" Tootie's shouts were definitely directed at no one now; her arms flailed wildly as she explained to the world how disappointing her sister was. Timmy tried to pretend that he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. He knew Chester had seen them. His face had gone white. _

_After a while, as Chester tried to gently lead the distressed brunette away and take her home, Timmy could make out the faint, even sentences on the edge of her voice._

_She's not how a big sister is supposed to be._

_She's never going to be._

-

Timmy had considered going home too. Suddenly the mall and everything in it seemed heavy, and bright, and sharp. Everything screamed of superficial pointlessness, and the people seemed even worse, scurrying into shops to spend money they'd barely earned on things they didn't need. Shop after shop of big business at its most soul sucking, souls that were desperately needed so that people could be half-decent human beings. It was a symbol of everything that was wrong with humanity in Timmy's eyes, and she shut them, trying to block the harsh neon strips out as he made his way to the exit.

When he opened them again, something brought him back down to earth.

He knew it was just a coffee shop, he knew there was nothing to it and most of all, he knew it was no different to all the other shops that lined this monument to human greed. In fact, as the old cliché goes, it was the symbol of global dominance in the business world, right? A coffee chain on every corner, paving the streets outside with discarded polystyrene cups. But that wasn't what had caught Timmy's eye. It was just the empty space, where not too long ago a fragile girl had stood, crying silently to herself as her coffee got cold, as the world just passed her by. And still, people just passed the space by, as though Vicky had found the only place in the world where you could be _truly_ ignored.

But Timmy had seen her that day.

And she hadn't seen him.

And suddenly it occurred to Timmy that Vicky probably hadn't gone home. It would be a stupid thing to do, considering it was pretty obvious that Tootie would have gone straight there too when she realised what her sister had done. The more he thought about it, and the more he stared at that vacant spot, the more he came to realise that Vicky probably hadn't left the mall either. While Timmy might have seen the place as a sickening display of money changing hands, Vicky probably saw it as a sanctuary. The place she came when she was down, the place that reminded her of happier times when all she had lived for was money, before all these tricky emotions showed up and forced her to question who she was.

And so Timmy had waited, until almost everyone had gone and the red head would be easier to spot in vast whiteness of the place. Until it would be easy to corner her, and get her to talk to him where she couldn't escape. Like last night he just needed to know that she was ok.

-

Timmy cast furtive glances down the rows of shops. Once again he stood opposite the bathrooms, but this time with the intention of going in. Right at the other end of the mall he could see a woman, laid down with bags but still not giving up the eternal struggle to empty her purse, but between there and here there was not another soul. He checked his watch. There were still a few minutes before closing, but already many of the shops had pulled their shutters down. The place was almost dead, at least for the night. Timmy took a deep breath and ducked into the girl's bathrooms.

Timmy would be the first to admit that he was no stranger to the bathrooms of the opposite sex. He would hope, however, that it wouldn't sound as sordid as it did in his head. His sneakers made barely a sound on the grimy blue tiles, and he was more than relieved to find that there was no one else in there. Or, at least, no one he could see.

He checked under each of the stalls for feet, before straightening up and clearing his throat. Vicky would know that someone was in there by now, even if she didn't know it was Timmy so there was no need for stealth.

"Vicky?" he called softly. Her name echoed around the cold, unfriendly room.

He hadn't expected her to answer, not in the slightest, but he had known she would react. If he hadn't been listening he would have missed it, the slight creak as she shifted, crouched on the toilet seat, shocked to hear her name called out in a familiar voice. He directed his eyes to the last stall, one with an 'OUT OF ORDER' sign tacked to the front in familiar handwriting. He walked right up to the door, but he didn't knock.

"I know you're in there," he said quietly.

There was a pause.

"How?" Vicky's voice replied, weak and scared from behind the flimsy wooden door. Timmy wasn't sure how to answer her, because in truth he didn't know.

"I just do," he finally settled on.

"How?" she asked again. Timmy sighed, and decided to take charge of the conversation. He was the one here who was going to ask the questions, not her.

"Why are you hiding in here?" he asked.

"I'm not hiding, Twerp," Vicky said defiantly, but every syllable was tinged with her own admission that this was a lie.

"Oh really?" Timmy said with a smirk. "So would you like to tell me what crouching on a toilet seat for three and a half hours is if it's not hiding?" This was met by a stoic silence from the other side of the door. Timmy smiled. She didn't have to say it; there was no one in the conversation who didn't know that Vicky was hiding. Timmy let himself slide down the door and rest on the tiles, no matter what kinds of germs they might be harbouring.

"Vicky, please tell me what's wrong," Timmy said, leaning his head against the heavily-vandalised wood.

"Nothing's wrong," Vicky said curtly. Timmy closed his eyes. He knew that there was nothing he could do to make her talk and moreover, he _knew_ he had no right to. As he sat on the filthy floor of the girl's bathroom trying to get a girl who had once made his life hell to open up, Timmy _knew_ that he was in the wrong. Vicky's secrets were hers, and Timmy knew why she wouldn't tell. Vicky's secrets were hurting her, and if someone made them better she felt as though she'd no longer be paying for all the bad things she had done. And she couldn't let them go, not yet. She wasn't finished atoning by a long shot.

"Ok," Timmy said, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on them, clasping his hands together loosely.

"That's it?" came Vicky's voice, not angry but not placated either. "Ok?"

"Well, what do you want me to say Vicky?" And there was another silence, as expected. This one lasted a little longer. There were things being thought through, mostly by Vicky under the heading of what she _really_ wanted Timmy to say. All the things she wanted to hear from his wonderful mouth, and, sadly, all the things she felt would probably never be true. Timmy hadn't come here to confess his love, he had come to pry and interfere in Vicky's own private pain. Vicky crossed her arms across her chest and lowered her feet down onto the floor.

"Go home Timmy."

"I don't want to," came the reply.

"Why not?"

"Because you're sad."

"And you want to hang around and watch?" The comment was so laced in venom that Timmy wanted to get up and leave. He wanted to yell and tell her she deserved to destroy herself, to sink into a black abyss where she could never bother anyone again. But something else had rung louder through her words. She hadn't denied what Timmy had said. In fact, she had confirmed it.

She _was_ sad.

And now she had told Timmy.

Which was a start.

-

Vicky fell silent then, as did Timmy, who found that now he had gotten what he wanted, he didn't know what to say. He stared up to the ceiling, looking to the heavens for a way to make it through the day. He was starting to wish that he hadn't entered the girl's bathroom. Vicky's admission had magically transformed her in Timmy's eyes. She really was someone else now, someone who could, at long last, be forgiven. Timmy wanted to tell her that it was ok, that everything she had done was in the past and that it didn't have to be like that anymore. But he couldn't bring himself to say it, because it was a lie. He couldn't forgive her, not yet. The scars were still too fresh, the reality was still too real, and the new, warmer feelings he had been developing towards Vicky weren't strong enough yet.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

It wasn't exactly dark outside, but there was only a small, grubby window in the bathroom to let the dusky light in. Timmy scrambled to his feet, and heard Vicky doing the same on the other side of the door.

"Damn!" he cursed. "The mall must be closed." In fact, the mall had been closed for some time. He had been sitting on that tiled floor for longer than he realised, but Vicky was well aware of how much time had passed.

"Oh, jeez," she hissed under her breath. There was a metallic clang outside of the bathroom, followed by a muffled curse word. "Perfect," Vicky muttered.

"What?" Timmy whispered, somehow sensing that this would be a good time for him to keep his voice down.

"Cleaning lady," Vicky whispered back.

"Great, she can let us out of here." There was a strangled grown from behind the door, and before Timmy knew what was happening the latch clicked open and a hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt. Vicky yanked him into the stall with her and shut the door quickly, locking in ad jumping back on to the toilet.

"Quickly," she hissed, holding out her hand. Timmy took it, and clambered up onto the toilet with her. There wasn't enough room for them both, and Timmy slipped off again.

"Get up here!" she said urgently.

"I can't!" Timmy protested. "It's not big enough!" Vicky rolled her eyes and pulled him up again, but this time she wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her body. Timmy was startled for a second, but he soon realised that it would help his balance if he did the same. Hesitantly, and never sure if she would hit him, he reached up with reluctant arms and curled them delicately around Vicky's waist. She shuddered under his embrace, but just then the bathroom door swung open with a groan.

Wheels squeaked across the floor, along with the laboured breathing of someone who would much rather be at home. Timmy kept his lips tightly together, not daring to breathe and hardly noticing how he hugged Vicky tighter and tighter every time the bucket squeaked closer. He closed his eyes and hoped that she would be finished soon, completely bypassing the stall that wasn't in use.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Vicky's heart beat was rapid underneath her soft cotton shirt; Timmy could hear it where his head was pressed to her chest. Still, he didn't open his eyes. Her hands were gentle on his back, yet firm, which surprised Timmy greatly. He had half expected her to be digging her nails in, squeezing him too tightly, hurting him even though she was meant to be keeping him safe.

Just like she had always done.

But she wasn't. She was holding him carefully and, though it seemed strange to think it, not just with her arms. Her whole body was in the action as if she wanted to encompass him, to smother him with her desire to keep him out of trouble and in her arms. It was warm, and it felt good to be standing there with her chin resting gently on his head as if she didn't even realise. And in spite of himself, Timmy felt himself holding her back. Not just for safety, but to give her warmth, to make her feel better. A smile played across his lips. He was _happy_ here. He'd never been held like this in his entire life, never been embraced with so much emotion.

He felt… _loved_.

Something wet on his forehead brought him back to earth. He looked up at Vicky who, to his surprise, didn't turn away. She was crying, and her face was dark with regret, but she stared right into his eyes. Timmy wanted to say something, but he couldn't or he'd risk getting them both into trouble, so he just put his head back down on to her chest again and held her a little tighter.

By the time the cleaner had left, the effect had worn off a little. Timmy was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed, at the situation and at himself. Vicky too seemed to have come to her sense and was sniffing and blinking and trying to hide all traces of her tears without using her hands.

Neither of them seemed to notice that despite the awkwardness, they were still holding on to each other. The threat was gone, but still, they held each other.

After a minute or two they both came to their senses and pulled apart, Timmy slipping off the toilet seat once more but managing to stay on his feet. Vicky got down clumsily, absolutely refusing to lean on Timmy for support. They burst out of the stall in a rush and stood, face to face but looking at the floor, trying to hide their nerves.

"I should go home," Timmy said, already backing away towards the door. "It's late."

"Yeah," Vicky agreed half-heartedly.

"Oh, no," Timmy whispered. "The doors will all be locked!" Vicky's head shot up and she looked Timmy squarely in the eyes.

"If anyone finds you, they'll say you were shoplifting," she mumbled, looking back down to the floor.

"I guess so," Timmy agreed.

"I know so," Vicky said, looking up and giving Timmy and wry smile, in spite of herself. He let out a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders.

"So now what?" he asked. Vicky jabbed a finger at the window. "Won't it be locked?"

"Not for long," Vicky said demurely, reaching into her pocket and extracting a paper clip. The tension between them was electric, full of awkward pauses and things left unsaid, but Timmy couldn't help smiling as the red head went to work on the window latch.

In her own little way, Vicky really was quite amazing.


	10. Knowledge

**A/N: I would just like to point out that where I come from, the legal age is 16 for "adult situations", and even though this fic (probably) won't contain "adult situations", it does seem slightly less wrong to me than it might for those of you in the U.S. or anywhere else where the age of consent is higher. If this is the case, and it really bothers you,just pretend like Timmy and Vicky are like two years older than I said they were. - Sky.**

**Chapter 10 - Knowledge**

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The pair just looked at each other, clutching at their chests as they tried to get their breath back. Vicky was trying desperately not to smile at Timmy's expression, at the way he looked. Clearly this was the first time he had ever done something that could even be deemed slightly illegal, and now a look of liberation played about his face as the adrenaline in his blood told him that he'd gotten away with it. There was a streak of mud on his cheek from where he had collapsed onto the wet grass after squirming his way through the tiny window. He had kicked and struggled to put his awkward adolescent body at the right angle, and he had caught his jeans on the latch more than once. Only after she had made sure that Timmy was safely through did Vicky climb up herself, and Timmy had watched in awe as she did it with very little fuss and a great deal of ease. She, too, had fallen on the grass as the position of the window did not allow for any other option, but she had even done that more gracefully than Timmy had managed. There were just two very small dirt stains on her knees.

"Are we safe?" Timmy asked eventually, in between wheezes.

"We're safe," Vicky replied, casting a furtive look back to the window.

"That was pretty cool, Vicky," Timmy conceded, and even though it was hard to tell in the darkness, Vicky was certain that the boy was blushing. It was then that the smile escaped her lips. She suddenly felt so...

... so _forgiven_.

"It wasn't really," she said in a small voice. "All I did was break through a window."

"I couldn't have done it," Timmy replied honestly.

"That's because you're not a mad delinquent."

They both began to laugh, nervously at first, but it wasn't long before the intense situation got the better of them. The whole evening had been such a crazy one that everything about their past together could be forgotten, if only for tonight. Vicky even managed to forget that the boy who stood before her, who had once been a boy she loathed with all her soul, was the boy that she was now madly in love with. For some reason she could see him as just Timmy, this guy, this wonderful guy who managed to somehow care about those he was meant to hate. It didn't matter that he didn't love her, it just mattered that he was there.

"What?" Timmy asked. Vicky snapped out of er daydream.

"Huh?" she said stupidly.

"You've got this odd little grin on your face," Timmy said, flashing her a big, jaunty one back.

"Have I?" Vicky asked lightly. Her head was still spinning from the sheer truth of where she was and who she was with. Timmy nodded at her.

It was then that the coldness of the night penetrated Vicky's senses at last, awakening her to what was going on and what she had just done. She bit her tongue, determined not to let her attitude screw this up. Timmy was with her, and he wasn't crying or yelling or telling her that he hated her. In fact, she would have said that despite how bizarre their meeting was, Timmy was actually having a good time, and she wasn't going to let her old self ruin it. She just wasn't. She flopped down onto the grass and crossed her legs, hiding her head in her hands as her inner battle raged on.

"What's wrong Vicky?" Timmy asked, sitting beside her. She didn't answer him. Every word was like a dagger in her heart, reminding her what she had done. How foul and horrible she had been to a boy she was meant to care for, and how ashamed she was. She wished he would stop talking.

"Please, Vicky, tell me," Timmy said in an anxious voice. Vicky wanted to push him away, to yell at him to shut up. It was then that she knew that while she might have felt like he forgave her, she wasn't ready for it yet. She still had so much to payback, maybe she'd be paying it back forever, but she knew she wasn't finished. Not yet. She got to her feet.

"Vicky?"

She ran.

-

She didn't stop until her senses told her that something wasn't right. She looked around her, blinking the tears from her eyes so that she could see clearly at last. Vicky stood, cold and miserable, in a street she did not recognise. Crooked streetlights cast an eerie glow over street signs bearing names that she'd never heard of. A lot of the buildings seemed to be boarded up and abandoned, too. This was a part of Dimsdale that Vicky had never seen. She sat on a low wall, breathing heavily as she pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes. She tried to remember where she had ran from, trying to retrace her steps, but everything just looked the same to her. So decayed and forgotten and hopeless. She closed her eyes once more, and buried her head in her hands.

-

A walk that would usually have taken Timmy about fifteen minutes had swallowed half and hour of his time so far, and he wasn't even half way home. He kicked his feet out at loose stones as he ambled along the empty streets of Dimsdale, with so many thoughts chasing each other through his mind that it was difficult to pick one out from the crowd. His hands were hidden deep inside his pockets, and he had his head bowed against the night. For a moment, for a very brief moment, Timmy had felt happy for the first time since his birthday. He couldn't explain it, not really, but the evening with Vicky had opened his eyes. He had always known that there was more to the red head than a fiery temper and a pair of fists, but for the whole time he had been under her care he just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. He had wanted to hate her for what she did to him, and he did, but it was the lingering feeling of debt in the back of his brain that stopped him from doing anything about it. It was because of Vicky that Timmy had gotten Cosmo and Wanda as godparents, and even though she didn't know it, Vicky was responsible for the happiest times of Timmy's life. She was the one to thank.

Timmy had always wished that there was a reason that Vicky acted the way she did, but he had never gotten close enough to ask her. He wanted to find out what made her act so bad, so he could get on with forgiving her. Timmy had realised that tonight, when she had finally began keeping him safe. Once, he would have thought that he could never have forgiven Vicky, and the thought didn't bother him, but now he realised that he had to. He had to, or her life would be forever marred by the girl she used to be. She'd changed, Timmy saw that now, and the only thing that was holding her back were her memories and her regrets.

Timmy stared at the little green bird for a while before he realised what he was seeing. "Cosmo?" he said quietly, the sound echoing mournfully on the still night air. The bird didn't move, didn't twitch. Timmy cocked his head and looked at it again. "Cosmo?" he tried again, but he didn't sound as sure. The bird ruffled it wings and took flight, and Timmy watched it until he couldn't see it anymore. He shrugged and carried on home.

As he expected, his parent's car was not in the driveway when he arrived. Even though he knew it must be nearly midnight, he didn't think that they would come home until tomorrow was half over. He didn't mind though, not really. He had too much on his mind to have to deal with his mother and father. He slouched up his stairs and into his bedroom. He was about to collapse on his bed when he noticed that there was something already on it. It was a letter, bearing the Fairy World seal. He reached down with trembling hands to pick it up, clicking on his bedside lamp as he did so. As he carefully tore the envelope open, he tried not to notice the empty goldfish bowl that stood on the table out of the corner of his eye.

_Mr. Turner,_

_As head of the Fairy Council, it is my duty to inform you that your Fairy Godparents (Cosmo #169, Wanda #244) have been removed from your service. Several days ago it was brought to my attention that you have been retaining your fairies' service without due cause, i.e. sufficient suffering (under the Cause for Distribution and Service of Fairy Godparents Act). As you are probably well aware, this directly goes against the Rules and Regulations of the Fairy Godparent Scheme._

_It was also brought to my attention that this continued service was due to interference by a senior Fairy (Jorgen Von Strangle #12), and that you were well aware of the illegality of your fairy godparents continued service. It is therefore the decision of this Council that you, your former fairy godparents and Mr. Von Strangle should attend a hearing at Fairy Court to explain your actions. The trial will be held in a fortnight. An escort will arrive at your place of residence an hour prior to the trial's commence. _

_During this time you will not be able to contact your former fairy godparents or Mr. Von Strangle. You are, however, granted access to a lawyer. Please send your reply, (enclosed with this summons), ASAP._

_Your Sincerely,_

_Jupitus Starr #02)_

_Head of the Fairy Council_

Timmy dropped the letter onto the bed. All thoughts of Vicky were pulled from his head as he thought of what lay ahead of him. He had had no idea that Jorgen was putting his neck on the line in allowing him to keep Cosmo and Wanda for longer than he should have. What he really wanted was to talk to them about it, but the letter said he would not be allowed to contact them. His stomach dropped as he thought of them, and Jorgen, all cooped up in some rotting prison back on Fairy World, because of him and everything he had done.

Because of Vicky.

Because she had left.

Timmy threw himself onto his bed, crushing the letter beneath his body. This was all her fault. He wrenched the bandage from his sprained wrist and flexed it. It still hurt, but Timmy didn't care. It was just another heartache in a long line of other things that were all Vicky's fault. If she had just stayed with him, stayed on as his babysitter, then none of this would have happened.

Timmy rolled over on to his front and sat upright. He brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them, the old anger he used to feel towards Vicky having returned at full tilt. Once again she had found another way to destroy him, but Timmy hadn't noticed because he had been too busy feeling _sorry_ for her! He screwed up his hands into vicious fists and began to pound them over and over on his duvet.

"Why did she have to leave?" he angrily asked his empty room. He tried to ignore the tears that were streaming down his face. "Why did she go? She knew, I know she did, she knew I needed her!" He got to his feet and slammed his door loudly, the crash sounding strange and unwelcome in the peacefulness of the house. Timmy put his back against it and slid down slowly towards the floor, his eyes fixed distantly on his window and the little flutters the curtains made as the breeze caught them.

He lowered his eyes to his fingers, which were entwined clumsily in his lap, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "She wanted to stay," he said bitterly. "She did." He took his hat off and ran the fingers of his other hand through his messy brown hair. Something felt wrong and awkward, as though there was a stone in his shoe that was cutting his foot. He wanted to shake it out, but the blood held it in. Old blood, old feelings, refusing to make way for anything new.

He'd seen it in her eyes. She had wanted to stay. When Timmy's father told her that she wasn't needed anymore, Timmy had seen her crushed. He had seen some wall behind her eyes fall down and all that was left behind was a frightened little girl.

"But she still left!" Timmy roared to the empty room. "She wanted to stay, but she didn't! She left so she could hurt me one last time! She only left to hurt me!" Even as Timmy said the words he knew they weren't right. He knew that he was missing something important.

Suddenly, a thousand images blurred through his mind. The way Vicky had become skittish around him as he had gotten older, the way she hadn't even looked at him when she had been told she wasn't needed anymore. She had cried constantly since Timmy's seventeenth birthday, since she had left him behind. Timmy brought a hand to his mouth and held it there, as if he didn't even realise he was doing it.

"No," he whispered. "It can't be true."

But Timmy couldn't shake the feeling off. It all made sense. A crazy, twisted sort of sense. Vicky had always been one for wanting what she couldn't have. Because even if Vicky did... _love_ Timmy, she must have known that there was no way he could ever love her back. No way he could want to after everything that she put him through. Timmy closed his eyes as it hit him like a lightning bolt straight to his heart.

"She didn't leave to hurt me," he murmured. "She left to save herself."

-

07.07.06  
Not Forgotten.


	11. Without Wanda

**Chapter 11 - Without Wanda**

_Cosmo stared at his bed cover. His fingers found their way into a small hole he had created with his wand some time ago, and he pulled and twisted without really paying any attention to what he was doing. Rain fell softly over Fairy World. It wasn't pouring down at all, and the ground was barely damp. It was just drifting slowly, settling in a layer of sparkle that was gently buffeted by the wind. The drops on Cosmo's window magnified the streetlights outside, splitting the white spectrum into beautiful colours, which danced about his room. Cosmo didn't notice as the threads continued to splinter beneath his fingers. Cosmo didn't care. He sighed and stared at his bedroom door._

_He'd seen them again that night. As he pulled the door of the diner closed and locked it with his wand, he had noticed the flurry of pink out of the corner of his eye. His heart had leapt, the way it always did when he caught sight of her, but for the millionth time it deflated almost instantly, because Wanda was never alone. Arm in arm they floated down the high street, long before the rain had even thought to fall, and Cosmo scowled as Wandissamo grinned, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. He screwed his eyes up tightly, trying to erase the image of them together, but it was burned onto the inside of his eyelids, tormenting him with it's ever-presence. He pulled his jacket tightly around his skinny body, and set off in the opposite direction, deciding to take the long way home._

_He still hadn't changed out of his uniform. He looked down at it contemptuously, hating it for reminding him how worthless he was. He would have bet every wand in Fairy World that Wandissamo would some day amount to more than a spotty, gawky waiter. He was the most admired guy at school, and had been since the day he transferred there, and though Cosmo wished bitterly that he would be going home some time soon, that didn't seem to likely to happen. He would forever be a presence in Cosmo's life, an enemy that could beat him without even trying. He knew that Wanda could never fall for stupid, awkward Cosmo, who needed help in every subject and was only qualified to mix shakes. Cosmo was nothing to Wanda, nothing at all._

_There was a soft knock at the door. Cosmo looked up, pulled out of his misery though the feeling still weighed heavily on his heart. "Cosmo, dear, are you in there?" asked a familiar voice. Cosmo got up from his bed and floated over the door. _

"_Yes, Mama," he replied, opening it._

_Cosmo thought the world of his mother. She had raised him single-handedly after his father had left, and she had done a damn good job. She never let Cosmo think he was stupid or useless, and anyone who said anything like it was liable to get a mouthful. She protected him from all the bad things in the world, and she kept him sheltered and happy. Or at least she tried to, but Cosmo knew that there were some things even she couldn't cure._

"_Whatever is the matter dear?" she asked. "Your dinner's been on the table for twenty minutes! It must be stone cold by now."_

"_Sorry, Mama," Cosmo said in a small voice, lowering his head._

"_Come now dear, tell your mother what's got you so down," she said in a kind, yet very mothering voice. Cosmo sighed. He wasn't really sure he wanted to talk to his mother about his feelings towards Wanda. He was certain she wouldn't approve, and that she would tell him all kinds of things that he didn't really want to hear, things along the lines of how he didn't really need her, and how he could do much better anyway, and how he was too young to be tied down. Cosmo didn't believe any of these things and just because they were said in his mother's voice it wouldn't make them true._

_But on the other hand, Cosmo had no one else to talk to. He was never really that good at making friends, and of the few people he did hang around with at school, he couldn't think of a single fairy who would be able to help. He'd been carrying around these heavy emotions for so long now too, that he felt as though he might collapse if he didn't shed some of the weight soon. His mother surveyed him with caring, worried eyes. Cosmo smiled at her. He could tell Mama, Mama loved him more than anyone else in the world._

"_It's about a girl, Mama," Cosmo said quietly. His mother looked stunned._

"_A girl?" she repeated. Cosmo nodded solemnly. "Which girl?"_

"_Wanda..." Cosmo said slowly._

"_Wanda... Wanda..." his mother said, tapping her want on her chin as she scanned her memory to see if she could recall the girl. "Pink, swirly hair?" she asked. Cosmo nodded. "But I thought she was with that other chap, you know, the foreign one? Big. beefy fellow... what's his name now?"_

"_Wandissamo," Cosmo muttered through clenched teeth._

"_That's the one!" his mother exclaimed. _

"_What should I do, Mama?" Cosmo asked as tears filled his eyes._

"_Just forget her dear, she's not good enough for you anyway." She lifted his chin with the tip of her wand. "And don't cry, dear, if you're old enough to be chasing after girls, you're too old to be crying anymore." And with that she bustled off, leaving Cosmo with the distinct feeling that he had annoyed her in some way. With this extra weight sitting on his chest, Cosmo drifted back to his bed and sat down. He rubbed furiously at his big green eyes, eradicating the tears. Mama Cosmo was right. He wasn't going to cry._

_-_

They had taken his wand away. His hands felt strangely useless as they hung by his sides. His feet felt strange too, as he was not used to feeling the solid ground beneath them. But they had suited him up, too, clipped his wings so that he couldn't fly away. He sighed, and rested his head on the cool metal bars. He tried not to think of Wanda, without her magic and her wings, and with a strange jolt in his stomach he knew she wouldn't be thinking of him. Her thoughts would be with Timmy, and everything he was going through. Cosmo sighed, and hated himself for being so selfish. He knew exactly what Timmy was going through, more so than his wife, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not while he was here, locked up in the darkness and all alone. Not while he was without Wanda.

He began to pace around his cell, his cage, and only stopped when an angry shout sounded from next door. It probably was late, he thought to himself as he sat down on the hard bed, the only thing in his cell. He buried his head in his hands, hating himself for not being able to stop thinking about Wanda. He knew she would be fine, she could cope even better than he could, and she wouldn't be afraid. She would be worried about Timmy and nothing else. It wouldn't matter to her that they were probably going to get their wands snapped in two. She wouldn't care that they would probably be banned from ever going to Earth ever again. She wouldn't be worrying herself sick over her punishment. She would just be miserable, because they had been snatched from Timmy without so much as a goodbye, and they couldn't even talk to him if they wanted to.

Cosmo bit his lip and stretched out on the bed. His skin felt uncomfortable and hot, and he was just yearning to reach out and grab something to hold on to. From the end of the hall there came a repetitive clang, loud and unwelcome in the late quietness of the wing. Cosmo looked up and watched as a warden ran his wand along the bars of all the cells across from Cosmo's. He narrowed his eyes at the warden, and a surge of anger leapt up from the pit of his stomach, forcing him to get to his feet. He slammed his hands against the bars, making sure he caught the warden's attention.

"Let me out of here!" he roared. The warden smirked at him and floated over, twirling his wand between his hands.

"Now what would I do that?" he asked in a sleazy voice, clearly enjoying his job much more than he should have.

"Because I haven't done anything wrong," Cosmo said, angry at the slight whimper that lilted on the edge of his voice.

"Well that just can't be true now, can it?" the warden said, his calm yet taunting voice making Cosmo want to reach through the bars and throttle him with his bare hands. Perhaps he did belong in prison after all.

"What did I do?" Cosmo said sadly, not addressing the question to anyone in particular. The warden glanced at a card beside Cosmo's cell.

"Says here that you breached Fairy World security. Continued fraternisation with a human adult. Quite a serious crime that, One-Six-Nine, I'm surprised they didn't put you in solitary."

Cosmo let out a derisive snort, in spite of himself. "Do you see anyone else in here with me?" he said sarcastically, but the warden just shrugged and pointed his wand towards the end of the corridor. Cosmo leant right forward against the bars and squinted into the darkness. He could just make out a tiny door, with an even small window set into the front. Heavy locks and latches had been bolted firmly to the metal. Cosmo shuddered and shrank back from the bars.

"My wife," he finally said nervously. "Is she ok?"

"I don't know," the warden said harshly. Cosmo nodded; he hadn't been expecting any compassion. The warden looked up to the ceiling, clearly uncomfortable, before sauntering off to make more racket and wake up some more angry prisoners. Cosmo sighed and went back to his bed. He just wished that there was some way he could talk to Wanda, to tell her that everything was going to be fine.

Or at least, so she could tell him that.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he swiped at them furiously, blinking rapidly over and over so there was no chance of them spilling out. He was too old to cry, now, and he had promised himself he would never cry just because he didn't have Wanda again.


	12. Twist

**A/N - Just so you know, where I come from the legal age for 'adult situations' is sixteen, so this story doesn't seem as odd to me as it might to some of you from the U.S. or other countries where the age of consent is higher. Incidentally, this story isn't likely to contain graphic 'adult situations', but if the idea of Vicky crushing on Timmy still freaks you out, just pretend that they are two years older than I said they were. - Sky.**

**WARNING - Language, Betty!**

**Chapter 12 - Twist**

When Vicky awoke, it was raining. Thick, fat drops exploded on her hot pale skin, rousing her from her uncomfortable sleep. The doorway that she was huddled in did little to protect her tall frame from the weather, but still she drew her legs up close to her body and tightly hugged her knees. Judging by the faint pink light on the grey horizon, it was still fairly early. Whoever owned the hardware store Vicky was hunched in front of had not turned up to open it yet, and Vicky hoped that the rain would have ceased before they arrived. She rubbed her eyes and pushed her sopping wet hair from her face, trying to make sense of everything that was running through her head.

At first, Vicky had been shocked to find herself outside. But then memories of last night had flooded her mind, making her stomach knot and twist. Her legs ached from where she had been running, and Vicky couldn't remember ever having run so hard in all her life. She just had to get away from Timmy, and the situation they were in, before he looked into her eyes, which would no doubt betray her. It was sick, and she knew it, but being with Timmy when he wasn't hating her was something Vicky couldn't stand. In her heart, she wanted him to shout and yell and thrash out, until the hatred had ebbed away. She wanted to be punished.

The tears were upon her before she had a chance to stop them, and she began to cry. She tried to hide her face, pressing her forehead against her knees as she wept bitterly. There was not a single car speeding past on the road, not a single person taking their dog for an early morning stroll. As Vicky sat hunched and small in a shop doorway, crying as though she would never stop, she was very much alone.

-

Timmy needed someone. He was in pain. Cosmo and Wanda had been taken away, they were gone, and soon they were to be punished, and it was all his fault. He should have just let them go, he should have just given up and realised that he couldn't fight the laws of Fairy World. He was one boy, one pointless, human boy and just a blip on Fairy World's timeline. He had earned no right to special treatment, and yet he had expected it, because they were his _friends_. Was he really so stupid as to believe that no other kid in all the world had loved their fairies like he had? That every other kid who was blessed with magical godparents was just a greedy, selfish brat who didn't care where the things kept coming from as long as they kept coming? Timmy felt like a fool. Of course he wasn't the first. He wouldn't be the last. He was just another one.

The sun had come up before Timmy realised he hadn't been to bed. His parents had returned to the house at around one in the morning, stumbling drunkenly up the stairs and hanging onto each other for support. Timmy had ignored them and in return they had brushed straight past his bedroom door without a thought for their only child. Timmy almost laughed at the thought of going to them for comfort. He didn't need help, he just needed someone to understand, and he knew he couldn't find that within his mother's arms. To them, all his trials were nothing but frivolous teenage angst, nothing that couldn't be cured with a quick hug and an 'Off you go now'. He didn't need that right now. He didn't want to feel better. He just wanted someone to watch him cry.

The sun broke through the curtains, throwing a shard of light across Timmy's crisp bed sheets. He had spent most of the night sitting on the floor, only getting up to stretch his legs when the ache in them became too much. His eyes hadn't strayed to the empty goldfish bowl once, but it was the conscious effort of not doing so that reminded Timmy more than ever that it was there. He wondered if there would ever be another one. Another bowl beside another kid's bed that Cosmo and Wanda would call home, or would everything be taken away from them, too? Timmy ran his fingers through his hair, and decided that he needed to get out of his house.

-

The streets were still fairly empty when Timmy got outside. A few cars here and there rumbled along the tarmac, but there was no one else out walking as though there was no place to go. Timmy found it all rather eerie; he had never been in Dimsdale when it had been this quiet. It was strange, as Timmy had been outside in less sociable hours than early morning, and yet there was hardly anyone about. It was as though the town had decided as one that it didn't really feel like venturing past it's doorstep. Even the few people who were outside had tired, frustrated looks on their faces, as though they would rather still be in bed.

Timmy's eyes itched with tiredness, but his mind was so full of fussy thoughts that he knew that even if he had tried to sleep, it wouldn't have come. Every time he closed his eyes, Cosmo and Wanda's distraught faces swam into view, sometimes interspersed with the image of a familiar redhead. He had so much going on and at the tender age of seventeen, Timmy felt a little hard done by. He would have given anything to not have these problems. To just be a normal teenage boy who didn't have to worry about his fairy godparents' upcoming trial, or that fact that he was nursing a tiny crush on a girl who had once made his life hell.

Timmy stopped dead, one foot hanging in mid-air over the kerb. His eyes stared wide around the landscape, though they didn't take any of it in. The thought that had crossed his head surely couldn't be true. Timmy thrust his hands deep into his pockets and tried to rationalise things. Deep down he knew, he just _knew_, that he couldn't possibly be attracted to Vicky. She was his torturer, the girl who had devoted most of her energy to making him miserable, just so she herself could smile. The girl who used to force him to do tiring or humiliating things, all the while knowing that at the end of the day she would be paid for her efforts. By Timmy's own parents no less! It was impossible for him to have feelings for her. It just wasn't right.

He gently placed his foot back onto solid ground and continued walking. He tried to convince himself that the only reason he thought he had feelings for Vicky was because he had more or less realised that she had feelings for him. He slowed his pace and stopped again. It was the first time he had really thought about that since he figured it out last night. He had dwelt on it for a little while, certainly, but the sight of the crisp white sheet of paper on his bed had brought his mind back to more serious matters. But now, in the cool of the open air, and the notion of Cosmo and Wanda's trial having been thought over thoroughly from every angle, Timmy found that his mind drifted back to that which was almost in his control. He couldn't stop Vicky loving him, but he could avoid making it any worse. He realised that he had to keep away from his former babysitter, remove the temptation as it were. He still wanted someone to talk to though, and he hadn't realised it but his feet were subconsciously taking him along the familiar path to Chester's trailer.

His steps faltered when he reached the trailer park. He wondered whether it would be a good idea to tell Chester about Vicky. For one thing, he would surely laugh at the idea, and not take it seriously at all. That didn't seem right to Timmy, who had seen Vicky at her worst because of her love for him. It actually shocked him a little, to find that someone could be that in love with _anyone_. She had wasted away, just because she had developed feelings for the last person she had ever expected to. Timmy was also worried about Chester telling Tootie. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friend, because he really did, but girlfriends have a way of worming things out of their men. If Vicky heard that Timmy was finally on to her, there was no telling what she might do. He remembered the way she had ran, just because they had spent some time together without screaming and kicking.

She had looked him, square in the eyes, and the humour had fallen from her face. Then she just took off and ran, as though Timmy were threatening her or something. He wondered if she had gotten home all right.

In the end, Timmy decided to pull Chester out of his home and just get him to listen. He wouldn't mention Vicky and he definitely wouldn't mention Cosmo and Wanda. There was no threat of losing them if he did now, but Timmy was certain that Fairy World had a hundred other punishments for people who blabbed. He would just talk evasively, about what was on his mind, just to get it off his chest. Or at least, that had been the plan.

When he reached Chester's trailer, a violent scene met his eyes. The door of trailer was flung wide and hanging from it's hinges, and a trail of old fast food wrappings and newspapers led from the door to the mud outside. On the floor, Chester's father was being held down by two large policemen, one of whom was trying to cuff the man's wrists together. Chester stood with his back flat against the trailer he called home, a look of horror and incomprehension on his face.

"Get off me you bastards!" Chester's father yelled, still squirming on the ground. Timmy was uncertain whether to approach or not. He wasn't sure if Chester had spotted him yet. He could just turn and leave, because he was certain that Chester would not want him to see this. Still, he found himself rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the action that was unfolding before him.

"Dad, stop struggling!" Chester yelled, in a voice Timmy hadn't heard him use since they were both little boys. "Please dad, just go with them!" There was an edge to his voice that suggested to Timmy that the blonde boy was on the verge of tears.

"Don't you tell me what to do, boy," Chester's father said gruffly out of the corner of his mouth. Timmy felt a wave of revulsion wash over him. He had never heard Chester's father talk to his son like that before. He had always seemed like a nice sort of guy. A little crooked, admittedly, but not in a way that could ever hurt anyone. And he always seemed friendly and accommodating whenever Timmy stayed at the trailer.

Timmy saw Chester close his eyes and mutter something, but he couldn't make out what the boy said. Timmy began to very slowly walk backwards, but then Chester looked up and finally saw his friend. At first there was a look of shock on his face and just the tiniest trace of humiliation, but then Timmy saw a pleading within Chester's eyes. Timmy stopped and nodded at his friend, to show him that once his father had been taken away Chester wouldn't be left on his own. The blonde boy stared at Timmy defiantly for a second, before running back into the shadowy space of his trailer.

One of the policeman was now pinning Chester's father to the ground with his knee wedged firmly in between the man's shoulder blades. Timmy could hear the officer reading him his rights, before the two policemen lifted Chester's father to his feet and led him to their squad car. Timmy stood still as the car roared past him, looking back into the face of the man handcuffed in the back. Chester's father's eyes did not meet Timmy's as he was driven past, but the shame on his face told Timmy that he knew Timmy had seen it all. Timmy took a few deep breaths before entering Chester's trailer.

The furniture had been tossed about like paper caught in a draught. Upended tables and chairs were scattered around the mouldy red carpet, and broken crockery littered the linoleum of the kitchen area. Chester was sitting sullenly in a chair, his eyes fixed on the empty sink. The curtains were still drawn, and if it hadn't been for the fact that the door was hanging off, there would have been no light in the trailer at all. Timmy righted a chair next to Chester and sat down.

"You ok?" he asked.

"No," Chester replied bitterly, and there was an edge of malice to his voice. Timmy decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut and let Chester do all the talking. There was a silence between the two, and the anger that was radiating off of Chester was so intense that Timmy was starting to feel it too. His blood was bubbling, at Chester's father and what he had done, at Fairy World and it's stupid legal system, and at Vicky, for getting in the way. She always found some opportunity to worm into Timmy's misery and make it just that little bit worse, didn't she?

"He's been stealing cars," Chester muttered, snapping Timmy out of his inner tirade. "Been at it for a while, apparently." There was a lilt to Chester's voice that betrayed how hurt he was to find out that his father's crimes had escalated from being merely petty. "Takes them from big company car parks and then sells them on cheap. Doesn't matter to him, because they didn't cost him anything in the first place." Chester's words were even, as though he was an actor, reporting things that hadn't really happened, or at least hadn't happened to him. Timmy wasn't sure what to say or even how to sit. Chester fell silent again.

Slowly, and very methodically, Chester got to his feet and picked his chair up. Then, in one swift movement he hurled it at the window of the trailer, causing it to smash. Timmy leapt to his feet and ran to Chester's side, putting his hands tightly around Chester's wrist. Chester thrashed beneath Timmy's grip.

"Let go of me!" he roared, but Timmy held on tightly. Chester was very strong, but Timmy knew that if he let Chester go he would only carry on destroying what little he had. He wrenched his arms, causing Timmy to stumble and hit his hip painfully on the sink, but still he didn't let go.

"Let go!" Chester screamed again. Timmy was flung hard, so hard that he lost his foot and fell to his knees. He pulled Chester down with him, who moved to the side and ended up sliding down the counter where the sink was. For a moment both boys sat opposite each other on Chester's floor; Timmy with his eyes fixed on his friend and Chester looking away to one side. Timmy's fingers were still holding tightly to Chester's wrists, as though he had forgotten he was doing it.

Chester began to cry. The sobs came in spurts, as though he was trying his hardest to hold them back. Timmy was determined not to look awkward, but it was hard. They had always been very manly and guy-like towards one another, and now Timmy was watching his best friend break down, after having just seen his father hauled away by the cops.

"It'll be ok Chester," Timmy said faintly, finally releasing his grip on Chester's wrists. "It will." Chester looked up, his eyes still swimming with tears unshed.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, nodding. "Yeah."

-

Most of the furniture was unsalvageable. The two boys had tidied up as best they could, but the place hadn't been in the best condition to start out with. After that they had sat about in a contemplative silence for a bit while the ball of emotion in Timmy's chest grew larger and larger. He wanted to spill everything to Chester, but he couldn't. It was his friend who needed the shoulder to cry on today, and Timmy had to be there for him.

"Oh, damn!" Chester cried suddenly, leaping to his feet.

"What?" Timmy asked, looking up.

"I was meant to be at Tootie's ten minutes ago! I completely forgot because of... well, everything."

Timmy nodded and got to his feet. "She won't mind. We can go to hers now, and when you explain she'll be fine with it. I won't stay," he added, catching the look on Chester's face. "I just don't feel like going home yet."

They walked in silence. Timmy's hands were once again deep in his pocket, and he kept kicking out at loose bits of gravel on the ground. Whatever could take his mind off of things. Chester was walking a little faster than Timmy, clearly anxious to make up time with Tootie. As they drew nearer to her house, Chester broke into a sort of run, and Timmy had to jog just to keep up with him. When they finally arrived, Timmy was hit once again with an unexpected scene, although this one was not as violent.

Tootie sat on her garden wall with her head bowed. Her glasses hung limply between her fingertips, and her other hand covered her eyes. Chester ran to her side at once, and when she looked up both boys saw that her eyes were red raw.

"Tootie, was is it?" Chester asked, placing an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Tootie sniffed and rested her head against Chester's shoulder.

"It's Vicky," she said quietly. Timmy felt as though someone has filled his stomach wit hot lead. What if she was hurt? What if she was... "She didn't come home last night." Chester squeezed his girlfriend's shoulders gently and placed his free hand upon hers.

"It's not the first time, is it though Tootie? You've said it yourself. Sometimes she stays away for days at a time," he said soothingly.

"I know," she said, replacing her glasses back onto her face. "It's just, the last thing I said about her was that she wasn't a proper sister. I was so angry at her, but when she didn't come home I got so worried. I mean, she just left. She didn't say a word and just went! She could be anywhere."

Timmy swallowed. Should he tell them about last night? About how Vicky had run away? Should he tell them what he knew, or at least what he thought he knew was causing Vicky to be so strange lately? He bit his lip. He couldn't tell them. It felt as though he would be betraying Vicky.

"I can go look for her, if you want," Timmy said. Tootie looked up at the boy.

"Why would you do that? She could be anywhere." Timmy shrugged.

"I just really don't want to go home," he said softly. Then he turned and walked away, before the couple had a chance to question him.


	13. Ask Me

**A/N: It shall be 'realise' for as long as I am English. So, you know, forever. :) The Skyhiatrist is now one chocolate cake richer. -Sky.**

**Chapter 13 – Ask Me**

It was as though there was a demon living inside Timmy's chest. No matter what he did or where he went, its presence was always there, affecting every little thing he did. As he walked slowly through the streets of Dimsdale, with thoughts running through his head so fast that he couldn't separate them from one another, he could feel it, squirming in his chest and growing bigger with each minute that passed. Time flowed by like it was tangible, oozing past so slowly that Timmy could almost reach out and grab the seconds, and yet every moment was filled with so much activity it was wearing Timmy out. He felt as though he had been walking forever when he reached the end of Vicky's street, and yet when he looked at his watch he couldn't believe how much time had really passed. Cosmo and Wanda's trial was ticking ever closer and Timmy had almost forgotten that it was his trial, too. For some reason, it didn't matter. Fairy World could do what it liked to him, just as long as Cosmo and Wanda were fine.

Timmy yawned widely as he walked, sensing how tired he really was. He knew he would have to rest soon, and even though he was reluctant to go home he really knew that he had nowhere else to go. He knew he had promised Tootie that he would look for her sister, but the truth was that even if he did know where she was likely to be, he was probably the last person she would want to run into. He had vowed to stay away from her after all, no matter how much the thought caused the tiniest of pangs in his chest. A pang that he couldn't understand and couldn't explain. It sounded stupid to Timmy to even think it, but the idea that he could ever have feelings for Vicky frightened him, because he knew that it could never be superficial. Sure, he had a crush on Trixie Tang, but she was beautiful and sweet and even if she did blank him more often than he'd like he knew she was only like that because she felt the intense desire to preserve her social standing. When it came down to it, he knew with Trixie it was just a crush.

But with Vicky it was different. Vicky had done so much to him that he knew that it was only if he fell for her so hard that he would ever be able to fall for her at all. Timmy knew that if he accepted the way he was starting to feel about the red head, it wouldn't be long before those feelings had spiralled out of his control, transcending common sense and reason and going to that place where only true love exists. How many times had Wanda told him that true love forgives everything? She knew that her husband was exactly perfect, but she still loved him unconditionally. She always would. So Timmy knew that it was impossible to crush on someone like Vicky after everything they had shared, and he was frightened that what he felt for her was going to be the real thing.

He knew he didn't want that.

He didn't want Vicky to be his one and only. Not after what she had done to him. He didn't want to fall in love with someone he wasn't sure he could ever forgive.

He sighed and scuffed his sneaker along the ground, looking up and around for a familiar flash of red.

-

Vicky wanted to go home. Her body ached and she was mentally exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath her duvet and let the world carry on without her for a little while. Grey clouds accumulated above her, hanging heavy with moisture but Vicky was already so wet through from the morning's shower of rain that she couldn't see how it could matter. She sniffed and held her arms tightly as she walked, her head bowed in a sultry fashion and she was only dimly aware that she didn't know where she was going. She was still lost, and she knew that the direction she was walking in could be the one that took her away from home, but she couldn't just stand still and let the world fall in on her. Her stomach growled and tightened, and she paid it no mind as she continued to walk.

-

Wanda's feet ached. She wasn't used to them being so firmly attached to solid ground. She spent as much time as she could huddled on her tiny bunk, but it would inevitably all become too much for her and she would spring to her seldom-used feet and pace around her cell like an animal. Her hair fell in messy curls around her ears, the pink swirls dancing on her shoulders and tickling her skin beneath her uniform. Without her wand she felt as though she was half the woman she used to be, and little things that she used to take for granted, like fixing her hair in the morning, had all been taken away from her. And somewhere, on another cold wing of this dark and dank complex, her husband sat lonely and scared, running through the same horrible fate just like her. She curled her fingers around the cold bars and pressed her forehead to them, just wishing she could see him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Her thoughts were with Timmy, too, and the guilt she felt at not being able to deliver all the things she had promised. She had sworn to him that she would help him with Trixie, and that their last few days together would be the best of their lives, and now she had been wrenched away from him without being able to say goodbye, and she didn't know what he was doing or how he was feeling. She knew she would be seeing him again, but it would be at the trial so it wasn't much comfort to her. In her heart, however, she hoped that Timmy had finally come to his senses.

-

Timmy felt as though he had been walking for hours when he first saw Vicky off in the distance. His first instinct was to run up to her and show himself, because he was relieved to see her and to be honest, he was also very lost. The scenery had stopped looking familiar a long time ago, and even though Timmy had told himself that he should stop and turn back he hadn't seemed to be able to stop his feet from moving. He had carried on, somehow knowing that he had to keep looking for Vicky, as he was strangely certain that he would find her. When he had seen her when he turned onto an unfamiliar high street lined with shops with boarded windows, she was ambling slowly along, her head bowed against the world and Timmy hadn't been at all surprised to see her there. He had slowed his pace and began following her, glad that there were no crowds to lose her in, just watching her and utterly unsure of why he was staying away.

He buried his hands in his pockets, a habit he noticed he had only really acquired in the last few months, and picked up his pace a little. He knew that he was waiting for her to turn around and notice him, and if she did crane her neck he didn't want to be so far away that she wouldn't be able to spot him in the distance. It felt silly to him really, because he was betraying all of his common sense instincts, but he couldn't lie to himself. He _wanted_ to talk to her.

"Vicky!" His face rang out through the still air, sounding uncomfortable and awkward. Vicky stopped dead in her tracks and then spun around, her eyes surprisingly wide and fearful. Her eyes fell on Timmy and lingered there for just a moment, before she set her mouth in a straight line and continued to walk away from him, with confident strides and her arms folded across her chest.

"Vicky!" Timmy called again, picking his pace up a bit so he was jogging after the girl. "Vicky, wait!"

Vicky walked a little faster, striding so fast she was almost running, with Timmy calling after her behind her. Sharp pains shot through her chest as her anxiety and hunger built up, trying to force her to stop. They clutched at her, shooting through her heart like arrows and despite the fact that she was desperate to carry on Vicky finally caved in and allowed herself to rest against a wall. Tears fogged her eyes and she bowed her head, trying to keep Timmy from seeing her as he rapidly approached.

"Vicky, what's going on?" Timmy demanded, coming to a slow halt in front of the red head.

"Go away," she muttered, wishing she had the strength to get to her feet again.

"No," Timmy said firmly, so firmly that the hardness of his voice caused Vicky to look up in shock. "I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself," he said coldly. From deep within her Vicky felt an old familiar friend rise up, roaring in the pit of her stomach like a monster; her anger had returned.

"I don't have to explain anything to you," she said slowly and evenly, pushing her voice through jaws that were clamped tightly shut. Much to her annoyance, Timmy smiled.

"What are you grinning at, twerp?" she said, getting to her feet even though the effort made her dizzy.

"You," he replied, and the simple word drained every trace of rage from Vicky. Surprisingly, she offered him a weak little smile.

"Can't really complain about that," she said, sitting back down with a shrug. "I guess I really have turned into someone you can laugh at." Timmy rolled his eyes at the sky before sitting down next to his former babysitter. He hadn't meant to, and in a way he knew he was doing her wrong just by being there because he knew nothing could ever happen between them, but the urge to comfort Vicky and just to be with her had been too strong for him to resist.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Timmy said softly. Vicky looked at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked without a trace of emotion in her voice.

"What do you mean?" Timmy asked, genuinely confused.

"All this," she said, with a lilt of irritation in her words. She waved a hand ineffectually at the air around her. "Finding me, trying to help me, being nice to me. Why are you doing it?"

Timmy was thunderstruck. "I, er, I don't really know," he said honestly. "I just know that I have to do this for you."

Vicky found she couldn't speak. Hearing Timmy confess that he cared had filled her with a strange kind of light that was almost alien as she hadn't felt it in so long. A tiny glimmer of happiness had sparked inside her from Timmy's simple act, and even if she had been able to find her voice it still wouldn't have been enough to tell him how she felt. She wanted to reach out and grab him, to hold him and kiss him and show him how much she loved him and wanted him. How much she needed him. It was more emotion than she had felt in months.

"What?" he said, smiling at her with a quizzical look. She bit her lip.

"Nothing," she said fondly. "Nothing at all."

-

Cosmo was worried. He had spent so much of his life being certain that he had done the_ wrong_ thing that now he wasn't sure where he stood his heart was banging like crazy. He was in no doubt that what he had done was against the rules, but it had seemed so right at the time that it didn't seem to matter how much trouble he got in. There was also the fact that he was so _surprised_ at what he had done. It was not only illegal for a Fairy Godparents to perform unwished magic, it was also fairly rare. They were bound by their own biology, and only a few fairies in the history of the world had ever managed it, and they had been the cream of the crop. Usually, unwished magic is also unintentional, and it can be quite harmful for a fairy to force himself to try. But Cosmo had felt compelled to help Timmy, and to help him he had crossed lines he never would have dreamed of before. Trying to force magic was something every fairy was warned about as a child, something that they taught you about in school, and something that happened to fairies you didn't know.

Fairies that were smarter than Cosmo.

He bit his lip and continued to pace around his cell, staring at the fingernails that he had chewed until they were bloody. He hadn't meant to do it, not really. He had wanted to do something, but fairy magic couldn't interfere with true love, that was something that really was never possible. He had just wanted to force them together and make them see some sense. He had just wanted Timmy to spend enough time with Vicky to realise what kind of girl she really was beneath all the rage. He had thought about locking them in together, about somehow getting Timmy to wish he were sealed in somewhere with the red head. But he had dismissed that from the start. He couldn't confine them like animals, stuck together in a situation they couldn't escape if they needed to. He needed to just let them be alone, even if they were in a space so wide they couldn't even see each other. A place where they couldn't be disturbed by passers-by while they discovered the truth about each other. The extension of Dimsdale had been created then, a part of the town that had never been and still wasn't really there, but was still familiar enough to the pair that they wouldn't be frightened or cotton on to the fact that they really were alone, together.

And he hadn't meant a single second of it. He had lain awake beside his wife, trying with all his might to create this non-wish, but he had felt nothing, and when he had awoken in the morning he just assumed that nothing had happened. And then, as he watched Wanda comb her beautiful hair, he had started to feel it. The peaceful calm that every fairy experiences after performing magic. It had spread a warmth from his toes to his fingers and at the time it had been very comforting for Cosmo to know that even if he was to be taken away from Timmy, he had at least done something to make the boy's life without him that much better.

Then the law had showed up, and they had taken him and Wanda away.

Cosmo wondered if they knew what he had done, because in Fairy World unwished magic doesn't stay very secret for long.

-

"You're hungry," Timmy said matter-of-factly as he and Vicky ambled along yet another street lined with closed-up stores.

"You don't say," Vicky said, still wishing that she could just stop damn well smiling. Timmy gave a little laugh.

"We should get something to eat," Timmy said. His eyelids felt heavy and his eyes felt sore, but he was trying not to show Vicky how he was feeling. He still wasn't even all that sure what he was doing. He was walking through unfamiliar streets with a girl who left him so confused, but he knew that the more time he spent with Vicky the more he wanted to reach out and touch her, even though she was barely speaking and avoiding his gaze. He could tell that she felt uncomfortable, like she expected him to pounce on her any minute and start attacking, and a little like she hoped he would. However, he knew that he was the only one that could feel the _fire_ between them, because Vicky had been the fire all her life.

"Everywhere's closed," Vicky mumbled, feeling a familiar wave of sorrow wash over her. She was sick of being so up and down with her emotions, but they seemed to have escalated out of her control now. She had no hold on them whatsoever, and she was torn to pieces inside. Part of her wanted to accept the way that Timmy was behaving towards her and just let him take care of her, but a larger part of her was still too stubborn to be forgiven. She felt as though if anything did happen between, on the crazy off-chance that that was what Timmy wanted, she would be forever walking on eggshells around him, lest he remembered that there was a time when he rightly hated her with all of his soul.

"Everywhere?" Timmy said with a frown. Vicky nodded.

"I've been walking around this square for hours and everything's shut. I've been trying to get home, but it seems like it doesn't matter which direction I take, I end up back here." She shrugged her shoulders and offered Timmy a weak smile. "It's strange." Her eyes lingered on Timmy for just a second to long, and she tore them away, trying to play down the smile that danced across her lips.

He was struck with the mad desire to grab her and kiss her right there and then.

He shook himself as they carried on walking down the street. "You look cold, too," Timmy said, taking off his jacket.

"I'm wet through," she replied, hugging her arms tightly around her body as Timmy draped his jacket around her shoulders. She inhaled the scent and her heart skipped and thudded beneath her rips, knocking to be let out and be free. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, and hoped against hope that no matter what happened in her life, she would always remember this moment.

"Timmy, do you-" Vicky began, but she stopped herself before she finished her sentence.

"Do I what?" he asked absently as he peered into the darkened windows of the stores.

"It doesn't matter," Vicky said. She hadn't really known. The question could have ended anywhere. Do you forgive me? Do you love me? Do you know I love you? Do you _hate_ me? That was the one she desperately wanted to ask. She had to know if he loathed her, if everything they were going through was just superficial. She had to confirm that he wasn't just spending time with her because he felt like Vicky was his responsibility. It made her skin crawl to think he might only be with her out of pity.

"Ask me," Timmy said, coming to a stop. Vicky stopped too, and stared into his clear blue eyes. There it was again. That faint glimmer of understanding that peeked behind the swirling clouds of worry that seemed to have fogged his eyes of late.

"Ask you what?" Vicky said, tearing her gaze away. Timmy said nothing. Vicky bit her lip and shifted her feet, and prayed that the earth would open up and swallow her whole. The sun hung in the sky but a chill wind was still whipping the town. Vicky drew Timmy's jacket tightly around her, and tried to remember if she had thanked him when he had given it to her. He was still staring at her, refusing to look away, and she could feel his gaze boring into her and forcing her to confront herself.

"Do you hate me?" she said.

A car drove past slowly, the dull thud from its stereo resonating on the air.

"No," Timmy said honestly. "Not anymore."

Vicky beamed, and suddenly, she was forgiven.


	14. Bodies

**A/N: I apologise most profusely for the lateness of this update. I could blame a lot of things but I won't. Instead I shall say "Whoops" and hope you shall all forgive me. Thank you, THANK YOU, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story, the support has been overwhelming and I am more than sorry that I have been unable to get back to you all. I will try and find a way to at some point though, Brownie's Honour. If you're still bearing with me, here's Chapter 14. :) -Sky.**

**Chapter 14 – Bodies**

Timmy's house was empty when he finally arrived home. He didn't mind, but the gaping hole that was left where Cosmo and Wanda used to be was all too evident for his liking. He had seen Vicky safely back home, much to Tootie's delight, but Timmy had been left feeling somewhat unsatisfied with the way that things had turned out. After that last question, Vicky had gone very quiet and refused to commit herself to anything more than shaking or nodding her head. Timmy had tried to cover up the silence between them by talking a mile a minute, but it was clear to him by the way that Vicky wouldn't look into his eyes that she wasn't really listening, and he had given up, allowing them both to lapse into a rather uncomfortable silence. Vicky had seemed on the verge of saying something to him the whole time they were walking, but in the end she had flaked out of it and shuffled into her house with her tail between her legs.

Timmy had watched her until she had shut the front door, the whole time wanting to call out to her and make her come back, to finish their conversation like grown-ups, but he had stopped himself, mostly out of embarrassment. He really didn't know what to say apart form her name and besides, Chester was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to leave the front lawn of their former babysitter and return to the trailer park to pick up what remained of there poor blonde boy's belongings. Timmy had ducked out of this, which added to the weight on his chest, but he was so tired he could barely stand and Chester, ever the best friend, had ordered him to go home before his eyes turned to dust.

Timmy lay on his bed with his arms stretched out so they touched the edges and stared at the ceiling. He had been asking himself the same question over and over on the way home, as a tiny nagging voice in the back of his head that refused to back down. Why had she seemed so worked up about a question that wasn't really that big of a deal? After all, wasn't it _obvious_ to the girl that Timmy didn't hate her? Couldn't she see how at ease he was when she was around, and how much more he seemed to smile? Didn't she know that the last thing on Timmy's mind was running whenever she came by, and that yes, he really did want to be her friend? Didn't she notice the way Timmy had started looking at her? Couldn't she understand that Timmy _wanted_ her?

Timmy screwed up his eyes and tried to block the thought from his mind. If the thought made him uncomfortable it was nothing to the fact that he wasn't really surprised it was there. He imagined that if he told Chester of the way he felt, the boy would react with a mixture of shock and disgust, but when Timmy had finally realised the truth it hadn't overwhelmed him. It was as though it had always been there in his head, quiet and hidden and waiting for the day when it would gently introduce itself to Timmy's conscience. It felt inexplicably right.

He relaxed his eyes but allowed them to remain shut. Gently, like sinking into a warm bath, Timmy fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that promised to keep him safe from the world, at least for the next few hours.

-

Cosmo couldn't tell if it was night or day inside his tiny cell. The whole complex was lit by soul sapping artificial light, and just because the guards turned them off it didn't mean it was night time. Cosmo had heard stories of prison wardens trying to mess up the convict's body clocks to drive them insane, but at the time he had been certain it was only humans who had it in them to do that to each other. Until he and his wife had been sealed inside this living nightmare, he hadn't known that there were fairies in any world that could be so cruel. He felt tired and anxious, and though he desperately wanted to sleep he was haunted by the echoes of prisoners passed, the ones who had been locked up and shut down and told to be quiet like good boys and girls, and he briefly wondered if they, too, had really done anything wrong.

About ten minutes ago, or it could have been half a day, Cosmo had felt his unwished magic melt away. He was still yet to suffer any consequences, and he wondered how much longer he had left. A tiny glimmer of hope in his mind made him think that perhaps maybe he had gotten away with it. The evidence was gone now and what was done was done, and as far as he knew no one had been hurt. If he kept this little secret to himself then perhaps no one need ever know at all.

He rested his head against the metal bars again, letting their biting cold flash through his exhausted frame and shock some life back into him. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He wanted Wanda.

-

Vicky had sat and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, and she had come to the conclusion that she didn't like what she saw. She didn't like the fragile, vulnerable girl staring back at her, the weakness radiating off of her in waves. She didn't like the dark circles under her eyes and the way that her hair hung in threads, betraying to the world the brutal truth that she was falling apart. She didn't like the twitching, nervous way that her eyes darted about her face, as though expecting to find something to knock her back and she absolutely hated the way that when she smiled, she felt like she was lying. With a final sigh she tugged the door of the medicine cabinet open, throwing the mirror to an angle where all it reflected was the baron whiteness of the bathroom door.

She knew she should be feeling happier, she thought as she filled the sink with warm water. She knew that she should be smiling the brave smile of a survivor, of one who had come through great hardships, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She was glad, more than she could put into words, that Timmy had forgiven her, but it made her feel bad to think it had all been so easy. She felt as though she had barely suffered at all when in her soul she believed she should be in Hell for the way she used to be. She took her soap down from the cabinet and began to wash her face. He hadn't even shouted once.

There was a party at Vicky's house tonight, and she didn't even know why. It was probably just some lame thing her parents were throwing to reassure themselves that they still had friends. Vicky snorted, thinking they probably knew more people that she realised as they spent hardly any time at the house anymore. In their minds Tootie was smart enough too look after herself and Vicky just wouldn't let them take care of her. She knew she was a burden on their hospitality now, and that they were just counting down the days until she would just pack her bags and go, and it tore at her like ravaging claws. But she had made sure that bridge stayed firmly burnt a long time ago and part of her had given up hope of ever being able to cross it again.

Downstairs she could hear the clumsy sounds of her father dropping things and trying to pin up decorations on his rickety old step ladder while her mother shouted at him to be careful. For a fleeting moment, she considered going to help, but there was no willingness to in either her mind or her body. She was exhausted. She washed the last of the soap from her face and pulled the plug from the basin. For a few moments she stood, transfixed by the water as it swirled down the plughole, her mind blissfully empty for a little while, but as the last drop disappeared into the black abyss she returned to her senses and went to her room.

On her pillow, looking as though it had been purposely placed there, lay her stuffed bear. She couldn't remember buying it or having it bought for her; it was just one of those things she had always had and never had the heart to throw out, even in her darker days. For some reason she was attached to it in a way even she thought was childish, but she adored it. It was raggedy and frayed, and it had never been blessed with a name, but she loved it nonetheless. What she loved the most about it, however, was its eyes. They were shiny and black, and they were outlined in a dark, blood red colour that didn't seem to sit to well with the rest of the design. The eyes were cold and empty and hard, and Vicky had always found herself drawn to them. They reminded her that just because you could love something it didn't make you good. Love is a warm thing to have within you, but it isn't a warmth you have made, and that was just how Vicky felt. Even now, as she had grown softer and nicer she knew that deep down she was a cynical, mean girl who had simply fallen in love. Perhaps she always would be, but then it would just be another thing to hide.

She picked the bear up and held it to her chest. Often she had spoken to it as though it were Timmy, just so she could say at night all the things that welled up in her during the day, but she wasn't fool enough to think it mattered. After all, it was just cloth and stuffing and two small, beady eyes, and it could never soothe her troubles. She placed it on her bedside table and slipped beneath her duvet, wishing she were being held.

-

When Timmy was awoken by someone hammering fiercely on his front door, it was pitch black outside. He struggled to his feet, straightening his hat as he did so and waited for eyes to adjust to the dark. The incessant knocking continued as he tried to feel his way downstairs, and by this point Timmy was becoming increasingly irritated.

"All right, all right, I'm coming!" he yelled as he carefully made his way to the front door. He fumbled with the latch for a few moments before twisting the handle. The door swung open in a rush, and into the room toppled his parents who were clearly roaring drunk and had been leaning on the door for supported. Timmy's mother giggled as she and her husband fell to the floor with their arms tightly clamped around one another, while his father made shushing noises that were themselves quite loud. Timmy rolled his eyes at the ceiling and waited until they had picked themselves up before shutting the door to avoid slamming it on their feet.

"Been anywhere nice?" he said dryly, even though he knew they weren't listening. He shrugged and turned back to the stairs, but his mother called him back.

"Oh, Timmy, we had the best time at Vicky's house," she squealed, giggling as Timmy's father buried his face in her neck. "Her parents throw the best parties! I wonder why you weren't invited?" This sentence seemed to make her laugh even harder and she and her husband dissolved into a fit of giggles before stumbling over to the sofa to collapse. Timmy sighed and was about to head back upstairs when he realised that his parents were getting quite involved in one another and if he stayed in the house he was liable to be privy to a show he didn't much want to hear. Stubbornly, he turned on his heels and headed out of the front door, not caring what the time was. His parents, as usual, raised no objections.

He knew where he was going before his feet had even thought of subconsciously steering him there. The fact that there was a loud, raucous, alcohol fuelled party going on at Vicky's was bound to make the poor girl feel worse than usual, and though he hated to admit it Timmy had spent the whole time he was away from her mentally waiting for a time when he would get to see her again.

When he arrived at Vicky's house it was evident that the party was in full swing. The front door was wide open, spilling out lights, loud music and drunken revellers. Timmy was uncertain but he thought he recognised Mr. Crocker, passed out on the front lawn as he negotiated his way up the garden path. He had to press by two adults he didn't recognise who were standing close together and crowding the doorframe, and he tried not to look at the stairs that were littered with tired looking people with drinks clutched loosely between their fingers.

He squeezed himself into the front room and immediately began scanning the faces for Vicky. He hoped against hope that she hadn't gotten herself a drink at any point, because she really didn't need that. He doubted she would be able to stop herself when it was so readily available and free. She wasn't in the lounge, and she didn't turn up in the kitchen when he searched that either.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that she would probably be shut up in her room, trying to keep everyone out with her head under a pillow to block out the noise. He had a strong feeling that Tootie would be at Chester's trailer tonight, as his father was still locked up and he would be glad of the company. Timmy smirked as he climbed over the bodies on the stairs, and decided it really was none of his business what Chester did with Tootie, as long as he treated her right.

When he reached the landing Timmy was surprised to find that he remembered straight away which room was Vicky's. He knocked gently on the door, but he could barely hear the sound himself over the sounds of the stereo downstairs. He knocked again, a little louder this time, and decided it would be better to identify himself or Vicky would never let him in.

"Vicky? Vicky, are you in there? It's me, Timmy." The door opened the tinniest of cracks and Timmy could just make out a small, frightened eye, peering out at him from behind a curtain of lank red hair. When she was satisfied that Timmy really was who he claimed to be, she opened her door just wide enough for him to slip through and shut it the second he was out of the hallway.

Inside her room it was too dark to see by, and Timmy didn't bother asking why. Despite the fact that the door was firmly shut, the loud thud of the music was almost deafening. "Are you all right?" Timmy asked.

"What?" Vicky shouted back, leaning in closer in the hope of picking up the last strains of Timmy's question.

"I said, are you all right?" Timmy asked again, a lot louder this time. In the dark he could barely make out the shadows of Vicky shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders to show that she couldn't hear what he was saying. Timmy rolled his eyes and sighed angrily, before reaching out and grabbing Vicky's hand tightly in his own. He thought he felt her fingers curl underneath his as he wrenched the door open, but as light flooded the room and he could finally see her face, Timmy couldn't read anything in Vicky's expression at all.

He pulled her into the hallway, throwing her a warning look with his eyes to be careful not to trip over anybody. Gently, he led her down the stairs and through the front door, squeezing by the drunken couple once again to escape into the peace and quiet of the cool night air.

They walked for just a few minutes, with Timmy leading the red head by the hand a few paces in front of her. Timmy wasn't exactly certain why he hadn't stopped yet, and it was only when Vicky finally spoke that he halted his stride.

"I'm cold," she said meekly. Timmy turned to look at her, and then promptly dropped her hand from his in shock. As it had been so dark in her room, Timmy hadn't noticed that Vicky was dressed only in the short nightgown that she had borrowed from Tootie. She was visibly shaking from the chill and it was clear to Timmy that she was only biting on her bottom lip so hard to stop her teeth from chattering. He reached up to remove his coat, and it was only then that he remembered not taking it back from Vicky earlier that day. Vicky bundled her arms around herself, clearly nervous and embarrassed about being so exposed in the middle of the street.

"Come on," Timmy said, suddenly also feeling quite warm and flushed and trying very hard to look anywhere but at Vicky, "we can go to my house."

Vicky nodded gratefully and the pair began to walk, with Vicky trying to hide in the shadows that were being cast by the streetlights. As Timmy's house cropped up on the horizon, it occurred to him that his parents were probably still inside, doing whatever it is that parents do when their children aren't home. He stopped dead in his tracks and Vicky, who had clearly been relieved to see a warm sight at last, stopped dead and shivered pointedly.

"Sorry," Timmy said, smiling nervously and directing his eyes at the ground. "My parents came home from yours really drunk and now, well, God knows what they're up to." Vicky nodded stiffly, and turned around to head back to her house. Timmy put his hand on the freezing cold skin of her arm to stop her.

"Wait," he said softly. "I know it's not exactly a palace, but if you want we can wait in my tree house until the party at yours has sort of died down. I'll brave running into my house at some point to fetch you some clothes, too." Vicky sniffed by way of reply, and the pair headed up to Timmy's house before ducking around the side of it into his back yard.

Timmy hadn't been inside his tree house in years, but it had held up well. Timmy knew that the only real reason for this was because it had become ingrained with so much magic over the years that it was probably now more solid than most houses. The pair stood at the base of the tree, and Timmy pointed at the ladder, just to indicate that it was 'lady's first'.

Vicky shook her head. "You go first," she said stubbornly. Timmy sighed and hunched his shoulders.

"It's perfectly safe," he reassured her.

"I don't care," Vicky said. "You go up first."

"Why?" Timmy demanded. Vicky pointed to the hem of her nightdress by way of reply, and Timmy made the mistake of following the path of her finger with his eyes. He felt himself going very red, before clearing his throat nervously and tearing his eyes away from Vicky's pale legs.

"Oh yeah," he said lamely, and began climbing the tree quicker than was really necessary.

Once they were inside the tree house, Timmy soon found the old battery powered lantern that, much to his delight, still worked. It didn't cast much light, by any means, but it was enough for Timmy to see by and the perfect amount for Vicky to hide from. She stepped back into a corner of the wooden house, and immediately put her foot on something soft, which made her jump with shock.

"What is it?" Timmy asked anxiously. Vicky bent down to pick up whatever it was she had trodden on. It was a couple of sleeping bags wrapped in plastic, emblazoned with images of The Crimson Chin and Maho Mushi. Timmy grinned stupidly at them, before taking them from Vicky and examining them fondly.

"I can't believe they're still up here," he said, tearing the plastic from the outside and unfurling them. A stale sort of smell rose up to greet them, but other than that both sleeping bags looked perfectly fine. Timmy unzipped The Crimson Chin one fully and threw it around Vicky's shoulders, as it was only child size and at her height she would never fit inside it. She closed her eyes and drew it tightly around her while Timmy unzipped the other sleeping bag, before promptly throwing that around her shoulders as well.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked Timmy in a small voice.

"A little," he replied honestly as he stood before her in his thin t-shirt, "but you're colder."

"Thanks," she said, giving a little sniff.

-

In his office, Jupitus Starr was watching the Magic Metres. He liked to watch them as the ticked gently, the small needles edging ever closer to coming full circle, the tiny counters beside them totting up another number every now and then. He liked to watch them, because they were in order, and Jupitus Starr liked it when things were in order. He leaned back in his chair a picked up his mug of coffee, with his small blue eyes still fixed on the dials.

Suddenly, small fairy dressed in a white shirt and purple tie appeared on his left with a gentle poof. Jupitus Starr didn't flinch, and neither did his eyes stray from the metres as they continued to tick out their gentle rhythm.

"Got the numbers here for last week, Mr. Starr," the fairy cheerfully. Jupitus's expression didn't change as he reached out and took the scarp of paper from his assistant's hands. "Everything's normal," the fairy continued, clearly used to the way he was blanked whenever he went into his superior's office. "We had a slight fluctuation a few days ago, but it seems to have evened itself out now," the fairy said lightly.

Suddenly, Jupitus's head snapped up. "We had what?" he growled in a deep, menacing voice.

"Uh, a fluctuation," the fairy stuttered nervously, having been caught off his guard. "It was only a tiny one, somewhere on Earth, but it's all smoothed out now, I swear."

"Do we know where it came from?" asked Jupitus, now staring his assistant down. "I mean, do those knuckleheads in Tracking and Location have anything a bit less vague than 'somewhere on Earth'?"

The fairy assistant gulped. He wasn't used to getting shouted at like this. "Um, we think it was a small town in the U.S." he said in a trembling voice.

"Which one?" demanded Jupitus. "Which small town?"

"We, er, we don't know," the assistant admitted, and then closed his eyes to brace himself for whatever was coming next.

As it happened, it was no worse than having last week's numbers thrust back into his hands, and he carefully cracked open one eye to see if the coast was clear or if it was really just a trick.

"Now listening to me..." Jupitus trailed off, clearly trying to remember his assistant's name.

"Skitch," the worried fairy replied.

"Skitch. I want you to take this bit of paper down to the boys in T and L, I want you to find who's in charge, and I want you to STAPLE IT TO HIS FOREHEAD! I do not like fluctuations! I do not like vague information! Now, I want this fairy's identity, I want it on my desk, and I want it in the next few hours! Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Starr, sir," Skitch said quickly, before disappearing in a very relieved poof of amber smoke.

Jupitus cleared his throat and brought his mug of coffee to his lips, before settling his eyes on his precious dials once again.

-

Neither of them had said anything for about half an hour. Vicky had huddled herself and her sleeping bags in the corner of the tree house, and had rested her head against the wooden wall. Timmy was sitting on an upturned box he had found with his chin in his hands, staring at the dull lantern light that was growing weaker by the second as the batteries drained. The wind was picking up outside but thankfully there were no gaps in the tree house for it whip through. Timmy stood up and turned to Vicky.

"I'm going to go inside, just to see if the coast is clear," he said to Vicky, although he was uncertain if she was asleep or not.

"Ok," she replied faintly, trying to hide from her voice the fear that once he had escaped from her company Timmy wouldn't return.

"You hungry?" he asked as he put his foot on the top rung of the ladder. Vicky smiled to herself in the dark. He wasn't talking like someone who planned to run away from her, and she knew exactly what that sounded like.

"A little," she replied. She watched Timmy until she could see him no more, and then she strained her ears until she heard the sound of his back door being softly closed. She assumed that his parents must be asleep now, and Timmy was going to do everything in his power not to wake them up. Vicky sighed and felt a pang of guilt for Timmy. It was her fault her parents didn't really care about her, she had made it that way, but Timmy didn't deserve the neglectful way his parents treated him, even if he was old enough to look after himself.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling her fringe down to cover her eyes. She had been cutting her own hair since she was twelve, and yet the uneven lines told hair she still wasn't any good at it. She sighed and roughly pulled the band that held it in it's usual ponytail from her hair, flinging it across the floor of the tree house and into the shadows where she could no longer see it. She shook her head, letting her hair fall where it wanted on her shoulders, and was immediately irritated by the way it made them itch. She sighed, and listened to her stomach growl.

About ten minutes later Timmy returned, with not only food but also a new lantern and fresh batteries for the old one. He was also carrying a backpack, which he threw on the floor beside Vicky and began setting up the lanterns. Vicky picked up the backpack and unzipped it.

"Sorry there's nothing girly," he said. "My mom won't let me wear dresses anymore."

Vicky laughed and pulled out an old t-shirt shirt of Timmy's and a pair of faded blue jeans that were full of holes. She got to her feet and was halfway through throwing off her thin nightgown when she remembered that Timmy was just three feet away.

"Close your eyes," she warned. Timmy's first instinct was to turn around, and when he did the first thing he met was Vicky, now bathed in the brighter lantern light, with the hem of her nightgown bunched up in her hands just below her hips.

"Oh, man, sorry!" he said, quickly turning his head and screwing up his eyes, trying to ignore the image that seemed to be permanently burnt on the inside of his eyelids. Vicky narrowed her eyes at the back of her head and quickly removed her nightgown, pulling on her jeans fast before Timmy had the nerve to turn around. They were quite long, even on Vicky, and extremely baggy. She had to rely on her hips to hold them up. The t-shirt was also quite baggy, and dark blue in colour with a smiling face printed in the centre. She pulled her hair out of the neck of it and tossed the nightgown into the now empty backpack.

"Ok, you can look now," she said heavily, wishing that it wasn't so bright and that she didn't look so bad. Timmy turned his head and looked at the girl before him. His face broke into a smile.

"Cute," he said, before he could stop himself. Vicky looked awkward, and, after a moments pause in which she refused to look at Timmy, quickly ducked under her sleeping bag once more.

"I, er, I bought chips," he said. "It's all we have in the house." He threw the large bag at Vicky, who caught it one handed and opened them.

"Thanks," she said, and Timmy wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the food, the shelter, the clothes or the company that night.

-

The bag of chips didn't last long between the pair of them, but both of them felt so tired that it didn't really matter. Timmy went and sat in the opposite corner to Vicky and closed his eyes, with his arms folded in front of him. He was so tired he was almost on the verge of nodding off when something soft hit him gently in the face. He jerked awake in shock and looked down as the Maho Mushi sleeping bag slid down his frame. He looked up at Vicky.

"You'll freeze," she said simply, before turning down the lantern and snuggling up in her own bag. Timmy tucked the sleeping bag around himself and shut his eyes once more and drifted off to sleep.

-

Jupitus Starr smiled. On his desk there was a small yellow note that he read and re-read as though it were a very entertaining story, but it contained just three numbers and one word.

One. Six. Nine. (Cosmo).


	15. The Unicorn

**A/N: This is a short chapter, because if I had started the next part it would have been a very _long_ chapter, and I didn't want to eke out what I have here or I'd be afraid it would bore you. If this isn't a good enough excuse, expect Chapter 16 sometime this week. :) - Sky. (Extra note: Oh blow, I've committed myself now '')**

**Chapter 15 - The Unicorn**

Timmy was jolted awake by a dream he couldn't remember while it was still dark outside. He pulled his sleeping bag up to his chest and closed his eyes once more, trying to settle down and drift off, knowing that he would in seconds if he just tried a little. The wind was thrashing the branches of the tree all around him, reminding Timmy of where he was and, more pointedly, who he was with. His tired eyes cast a look over to the other side of the tree house, to his sleeping companion who sat hunched in the corner, breathing in tiny breaths and making the red strands on her lips flutter to and fro. Timmy smiled to himself in the moonlight, and closed his eyes once more.

However, Timmy found that those few seconds observation had cost him the comfort of that hazy zone somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and the leaves being tossed around outside seemed so much louder now. The cold it his bones in a way it hadn't mere moments before, and Timmy was forced to realised just how uncomfortable the hard wooden floor of the tree house really was. He sighed, irritated, and tried to squash his lanky frame into a more pleasing shape for his aching muscles. Vicky snuffled in her sleep, tossing her fiery locks quite violently for someone who was supposed to be at rest, and for a fleeting moment Timmy was concerned for what was going on in her tired mind.

It had never occurred to Timmy before that someone like Vicky was capable of having nightmares. Terrible visions of a place where she wasn't powerful and in charge, and where she couldn't make everyone she encountered bend to her smallest whim. Where she was small and vulnerable, and frightened. Timmy snorted. It was hard to imagine Vicky being frightened, even now, when she had shown herself to be susceptible to the most simple of human frailties. Vicky wasn't afraid of anything, and in the dark Timmy wondered if that was because she was tough or because she was brave.

She had to be fairly brave, he reckoned, to be willing to carry her burden all alone. With no one to talk to and no one to confide in, Vicky had carried on, day by day, maybe withering from the girl she used to be but still living, still breathing, still being her. While Timmy felt it was big headed to think it, (though he had no one to judge this action but himself), it seemed as though Vicky's love for him really was the real deal. He did not only intoxicate her, but she wanted and needed him so badly that everything else seemed to fall away from significance. She'd faded and broken since falling for him, turned into something so devastating that it could only be pure, raw love that had caused it.

He wondered, almost lightly, if he would ever feel the same for her. Would he ever crave her touch, (even though his body screamed at him to go over to her, just to share in her warmth)? Would he stop noticing that life was passing him by as he sat, alone in the dark, just waiting for those precious moments when he could catch a glimpse of his beloved, (even though for the life of him he couldn't remember what he had done the last time she hadn't been around)? Would he, like her, crumble into nothingness, firm in his belief that he could never, ever have her?

The pain that swelled in his heart at the thought of never seeing Vicky again was so intense and so bright, like ink through water, and it wasn't even real. No one was threatening to take Vicky from his life, there was nothing to stop him from seeing her, yet the mere thought had nearly ripped him in two. Timmy swallowed heavily. It took all of his self-control to stay where he was, because every instinct in his body was screaming at him to go over to her and hold her, just to make sure she was really there.

-

Wanda was weeping bitterly. Her heart ached and her soul screamed because she knew what her husband had done. She could feel it inside, the way she had always felt Cosmo's magic since the day she met him. Every little wish granted had tingled down her spine and made her smile, but not this time. This time it was wrong, it was unwished magic, and something in her gut had told her that she wasn't the only one who knew what he had done. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces because, unlike Cosmo, she knew just what happened to fairies that performed magic without request.

_Wanda's favourite toy had always been the little unicorn, with it's purple mane and tail and sparkling white coat. It looked so proud and beautiful, the way Wanda always imagined she did when she dressed up in her mother's clothes. It had long, silky wings made from feathers that Wanda always wished she could have, instead of the thin, veiny membrane that formed to make fairy wings. She wanted her wings to weep like the unicorn's did whenever it dropped a feather, but unlike the unicorn she wanted hers to grow back, stronger and better than before._

_And then one day she had dropped in it in the river, while she and her mother were out shopping for her first school uniform._

"_Mama!" she had screamed as she had watched the little tall fall from the bridge and splash into the icy golden water below. "Mama, my unicorn!" _

_Her mother had put her hand to her mouth and glanced over the bridge at the little ripples that now broke the surface. "Oh no," she had said in her light, soft voice. "Oh no."_

"_Mama, get it back!" Wanda had pleaded, tugging on her mother's hand as thick tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please, Mama! His wings will spoil!"_

"_Wanda, honey," her mother had said soothingly, turning to her hysterical child. "All the feathers will have fallen away the moment he hit the water dear. They'll be all gone and all he will have are the tiny plastic rods that used to hold them in place. He won't look as beautiful as he did."_

"_I don't care," Wanda had said stubbornly. "He's still mine."_

_Her mother had sighed and pulled out her wand. Magic on Fairy World was perfectly fine, wished or not, and the little unicorn had come soaring out of the river and into the little girl's hands. For just a few moments, the girl was delighted, but her face fell when she saw how ugly the little horse had become._

"_Come along Wanda," her mother had said, seeing the look on her daughter's voice. "We need to get you sorted."_

_Once Wanda had returned home, she had put the little unicorn in the back of her wardrobe and not thought about it for years. It sat quite alone and abandoned amongst boxes of shoes that didn't fit anymore and dresses that Wanda had outgrown. _

_When she was fifteen, the Fairy Council destroyed Wanda's mother. _

_She had been away on Earth, the God Parent to a young girl who had been killed. She had been on a ship that had sunk, and Wanda's mother hadn't been able to save her. Overcome by grief, Wanda's mother had tried to take it back, and focused all of her magic on wishing the little girl were alive again. Not only was it dangerous, but wishing a dead person back to life broke so many of Fairy World's rules that the Fairy Council swooped down on her before the spell had even been finished. It was decided that should Wanda's mother have succeeded, not only would the natural order of Earth been thrown out of balance, but the security of Fairy World would have been greatly compromised. She was sentenced to be destroyed._

_Wanda wasn't there when it was done. She wasn't there when her mother's wings were cut off and all of the magic was drained from her blood. She wasn't there as her father watched his wife close her eyes against the arsenal of wands that were pointed at her chest. She wasn't there when her mother was sent away in a cloud of black smoke, into an abyss from which she could never return._

_She was down at the river throwing the unicorn into the icy golden water below._

Cosmo had never been told this story. Cosmo had never known what Wanda had been through, and what had really inspired her to become a God Parent. He hadn't needed to, and she didn't like the pity.

Wanda sat on her bunk and rubbed her streaming eyes with the balls of her hands. She had thought that this kind of tragedy could only happen once in a lifetime, but she could feel the terrible mark being burned onto her husband more deeply with every second that passed. If only she had told him, she thought angrily, tugging at her pink curls. If only she had told him what could have happened, maybe he wouldn't have even tried. She screamed loudly into the deathly quiet, not caring if what Cosmo had done was worth it, because she knew it could never possibly be.

Vicky was dreaming. She was dreaming of vast green fields that stretched right to the horizon and bright blue skies that were heavily dotted by the black silhouettes of birds in flight. In her dream she was barefoot, but still wore the clothes that Timmy had given her that night, and she walked through the grass and felt the dew seeping between her toes. The sun beamed down on the gently rippling grass, and Vicky felt truly happy, though she was not sure why. With her back to the sun she looked up at the birds which, at second glance, didn't look much like birds at all. They looked more like little people, supported on the wind by tiny, transparent wings that grew from their shoulder blades.

Fairies.

Vicky had never believed in fairies. Not even when she was young and at her most idealistic, but she also knew that this was a dream, and somehow the fact that they were imaginary fairies made them more beautiful than ever. Perhaps it was because they had come from her mind, so fragile and small and pretty, and the idea that that could happen had never even hit her. Her mind spawned fire and pain and harsh scenes, scenes that were dark and sounded like screaming, but now she was in a wonderful place, all because of her soul.

One of the fairies broke pattern from the others and flew down to meet her. Vicky recognised him instantly, although she was certain that he had been human before. "I know you," she said softly, as the green haired fairly landed softly before her.

"Help me," the fairy said quickly. Vicky was startled, and noticed that even though the fairy was holding a wand between his hands, it wasn't as vivid and bright as everything else in the dream. It looked as though it was disappearing all the time, fading from the clutches of the worried fairy.

"What's wrong?" Vicky asked, taking a step towards him. The fairy backed away and began looking over his shoulder, as though he thought someone was chasing him.

"Help me," he repeated, his eyes full of pleading.

"I will, I swear, but you have to tell me what's wrong," she insisted, but the fairy just shook his head violently.

"I can't," he said in a terrified whisper.

"At least tell me your name," Vicky begged, feeling her heart break for the frightened creature before her.

Suddenly, the skies flashed and darkened, while forks of lightning threaded their way across the inky blackness. A wind picked up that was so fierce that Vicky could hardly hear for the roaring in her ears. The green fairy was shouting something at her, but Vicky didn't know what it was. Behind him she could see great shadows looming, with tiny red pin prick eyes, bearing down on the fairy as if to consume him.

"I can't hear you!" she yelled as the wind pulled and pushed at her floating companion. The green haired fairy continued to yell, and just as the shadows caught him Vicky caught the word 'Cosmo' on the tail of the wind. The shadows wrapped themselves around him, hiding him from Vicky's view and keeping her from moving forward.

"Cosmo?" she yelled into the whirling abyss, struggling against the wind which was now pushing her back. There was no reply.

Then the shadows finally broke apart, the wind died down, but the lightning continued to flash without thunder. The fairy hovered a foot above the ground, with his eyes brimming with such terrible sadness that Vicky felt herself beginning to cry. "Cosmo?" she whispered again.

The green haired fairy nodded, and then erupted in a ball of flame.


	16. The Other Trial

**A/N: Never make a promise you will rely on technology to keep. - Sky.**

**Chapter 16 - The Other Trial**

When the dream awoke Vicky from her fitful slumber, the sun was just rising and splitting the cold grey skies. Summer seemed to be nearing it's end now, and the season shift was reflected in the birdsong, which was low and quiet and came only in occasional bursts. Vicky's heart was pounding against her ribs and her eyes were stark and wide, scanning the old wooden tree house for the green fairy that had only really existed in her mind. It took Vicky a few seconds to calm down, and slightly longer for the grief to ebb from her heart, but the memory of the dream left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her chest, as though she had misplaced a secret and was terrified that anyone should find it.

Timmy slept on quietly in the other corner of the tree house, his sleeping bag wrapped untidily around his feet. The dim morning light cast a sharp contrast on his goose pimpled skin, and Vicky's heart softened as she watched the boy doze. She got to her feet and threw her own sleeping bag over the boy, although gently enough not to wake him, and figured it was time she went home before she was missed. Admittedly, that was unlikely, but Tootie would surely notice she wasn't one of the passed out sleeping bodies that currently littered the carpets of her house.

She picked up the backpack that contained her nightdress and threw it over her shoulders. Then, with one final look at Timmy, she headed down the old ladder and landed with a soft squelch on Timmy's dew-sodden lawn. It was so peaceful in Timmy's garden, and Vicky longed to stay there and watch the sunrise, but there was something within her that wouldn't let her be calmed or stand idle. For some reason, one that she could not possibly fathom, she was afraid. There was something inside her that she hadn't felt for a while. Responsibility.

Vicky looked down at her hands, at her pale stretched palms. She thought about the last time someone had been trusted into her care. The last time someone had been fool enough to let her be in charge of their child's welfare. Her hands curled into fists so tight that her nails dug into them and broke the skin. She wasn't cut out for responsibility! She couldn't even take care of her self, and she'd never even tried to take care of Timmy! She'd never been there for him when he'd needed her, she'd never cared for him when he was down. No, she was the _reason _he was down. If he was crying, it was her fault. If he was in pain, she was the one who had caused it. Well, she wasn't going to let it happen again. She wasn't going to take responsibility for another living thing for as long as she drew breath.

Her blood was boiling, and she didn't know why. She was just so angry at that stupid fairy for thrusting this upon her. Why couldn't the world see that Vicky didn't want responsibility? She hated that word now. It made a monster of her. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming in her terrible rage, and pounded her fists against the bark of the tree.

And then, just as the sky turned a muddy sort of pink, Vicky's senses caught up with her and she started to laugh. She was being so stupid! It was just a dream, after all. No one was forcing her to help imaginary fairies in some far off land! That was ridiculous! Her laughter grew and grew until it was an unrestrained hysterical giggle, and Vicky had to cover her mouth with her hands to keep herself from waking the whole neighbourhood. Unfortunately, it was not enough to keep her from waking Timmy, who leaned out of the tree house and peered down at the hysterical girl below with a puzzled look on his face.

"Nothing can be that funny at this time in the morning," he said groggily, rubbing his eyes. Vicky wiped her own eyes, which were streaming, and straightened up.

"You're right," she said, her voice broken by the occasional chuckle. "Sorry if I woke you up," she said quietly. Timmy, who was half way down the ladder by this point, shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry you had to spend most of the night freezing in my tree house," he said mildly.

"It was nice," Vicky said before she could stop herself. Timmy raised an eyebrow at her.

"Didn't seem nice from where I was sitting," Timmy said, jumping down onto the lawn too, but upon seeing the disappointed look on Vicky's face he quickly added; "For you, I mean. You kept talking in your sleep and thrashing about and stuff."

"Did I?" Vicky asked.

"Yeah, you were mumbling something but I couldn't make it out." Timmy said. Vicky shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her nose.

"I had some pretty weird dreams," she said.

"Anything cool?" Timmy asked with a smile.

"Not really," Vicky replied. "Anyway, I should be getting home 'cause... well, someone has to clean up the aftermath of last night I suppose."

"That's true," Timmy said with a nod. "I better get inside the house and see what carnage my parents have created."

"Yeah," Vicky said, feeling the beginning of an uncomfortable silence settle between the pair of them. Timmy stared down at his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. "Er, so, I'll see you then," Vicky said nervously. Timmy's head snapped up, but not enough for Vicky to be able to see his face.

"Um..." he began, talking to the grass.

"...yeah?" Vicky said.

"Uh, do you, um, do you want me to walk you home or something?" Timmy said quickly, ending the sentence with a shrug as if he was trying to convey that it really was no big deal whether she did or she didn't. Vicky smiled madly, but quickly scrunched her lips together to keep Timmy from seeing.

"No, uh, that's ok I guess," she said sheepishly, feeling like she was twelve all over again. She felt herself going red and she felt suddenly quite warm. "I'll wash your clothes and get them back to you," she said, quickly turning around and walking away.

"No, that's ok," Timmy said as she left. "You keep them. They look better on you anyway."

Vicky's pace picked right up when Timmy said that, because she wanted to be well out of his earshot before she burst into unrestrained girly laughter. She felt so small and so giddy, like for that morning her love had actually been reduced to feeling just like a trivial crush, but her heart still soared and her mind still raced as she went over every delicious detail of the night she had spent with Timmy.

-

They'd left him alone now, Cosmo was almost sure of that. The hurried footsteps that surrounded him had faded into nothingness, and though Cosmo couldn't even see an inch in front of his face in the darkness he knew that there was no one else around. The tiny pinprick of light that had through the screen in the cell door had been shut and locked, as though they expected Cosmo to be able to escape from the chair they had bound him to. His hands and fingers tingled and twitched where the heavy metal locks cut into his wrist and ankles, and he couldn't even move his head because of the band across his forehead that forced it to the chair. His eyes stung and watered through constantly straining to see in the darkness, even though he knew there was nothing there to see. This was horrible, and torturous, and Cosmo didn't even think a place like this could exist on Fairy World. He hadn't known. All that time he had lived and worked here and he hadn't known that somewhere in the depths of the big city others, just like him, maybe just a fraction of them guilty, where being punished. He wanted to cry, and scream, but he didn't know how long he would have to survive here and he needed all his strength.

After what seemed like hours, the tiny pinprick cut through the darkness again. It shone in Cosmo's eye and forced the muscles to retract fiercely, making him wince. A man stepped into the room, a man Cosmo had only ever seen on television or in magazines, but he knew him at once. He floated around Cosmo menacingly, dressed in a navy blue suit that was pressed to perfection, and not a hair was out of place on his head.

"Number One Six Nine," the new fairy said dryly. "I am Jupitus Starr." Cosmo said nothing; he didn't think it would be wise. "You were placed in our facility some time ago for breeching the restrictions of the Fairy God Parent Act, is that correct?" Cosmo new that Jupitus already knew the answer, but he also knew that keeping quiet would be a bad idea.

"Yes," he said meekly.

"Yes, sir," Jupitus said, and without missing a beat he carried on. "When you were interviewed, our interrogators asked you about anything else you might be keeping secret, didn't they One Six Nine?"

"Yes, sir," Cosmo said. Jupitus paused for a second and grinned smugly.

"What did you tell them, One Six Nine?" he asked in a playful manner, the kind of tone a cat would use when talking to a cornered mouse.

"I-" Cosmo began, but his voice cracked and failed him. He fell silent.

"I asked you a question, One Six Nine. What did you tell them?" Cosmo's voice still refused to work. He let out a soft sob. Jupitus smirked again.

"You told them there was nothing else, didn't you?"

Silence.

"DIDN'T YOU?"

There was a pause.

"Yes, sir," Cosmo said quietly.

-

Timmy was a little frightened to step into his kitchen, in case what he saw could never be burned from his eyeballs. Thankfully there was nothing so terrible to meet him as a couple of empty glasses and the fact that the trash had been knocked over at some point. With a sigh Timmy placed the glasses in the sink and began the disgusting task of cleaning the floor. Things like this were so much easier when Cosmo and Wanda were about, and just thinking that small though made Timmy feel incredibly guilty. How much had he thought about them since they'd been gone? They'd been stolen away from him and banged up in some horrible fairy prison while he remained on Earth, free as a bird, too busy developing confusing feelings for a girl he used to hate to remember the two people he really loved the most were suffering. Timmy threw the bin to the floor in disgust at himself. How could he?

They'd only been gone for three days. He couldn't believe it really. So much had happened in such a short space of time that he couldn't believe he still had so long until he could see them again. _You are, however, granted access to a lawyer_, the letter had said. A fairy lawyer, of course, because it made Timmy snort with humourless laughter to think that a human would ever believe the case, let alone take it. Plus he imagined it would really harm his defence if the lawyer who was supposed to be defending him were themselves a breach of Fairy World Security, the very thing Timmy was in trouble for. He rubbed his eyes and noticed how tired he was and how much his body ached. He longed for just a few more hours sleep so, armed with the knowledge that the house would still be a tip even if he woke up tomorrow, he tramped upstairs to his bedroom and flopped onto his bed.

-

Timmy was awoken some two hours later by someone throwing pebbles at his window. He growled angrily but still managed to pull himself out of the bed and cross his bedroom floor, where he threw the window up so ferociously that he knocked a chunk of the wood out of the frame. He peered down into the garden, where Chester stood looking up at him nervously.

"Oh Chester," he said with a huge yawn. "It's you."

"Sorry Timmy," Chester said. "Did I wake you?"

"What do you think?" Timmy said, frowning down at his best friend.

"Can you come with me today?" Chester asked in a rush, dismissing his friend's attitude as there were clearly more important things going on. Timmy sensed this at one.

"Go where?" he asked.

"My dad's trial. It's today," Chester said, and though Timmy would never tell the boy he looked to be on the verge of tears. Timmy tried to give Chester a reassuring smile.

"Of course I will," he said kindly. Chester returned the smile, his a much more relieved one, and Timmy lowered his window again. He clambered out of the clothes he had been wearing and dashed into the bathroom to get a quick shower. In everything that had happened it had been so long since he had last had one. The warm water cascaded down his skin and woke him up a little, and when he stepped out of the shower to dry himself off he felt much more alert.

Once he was dressed he bounded down the stairs and out of his house, where Chester stood, both patiently and nervously, looking rather strange in a smart suit and tie that Timmy hadn't noticed he was wearing before.

"Oh crap," he said, pulling at his faded t-shirt. "Do I have to dress up too?"

"No, don't worry about it. I'm just sitting up front with my dad. You know, for support. You can sit at the back of the courtroom if you want." The pair began walking to the bus stop, to catch the express to the courtroom next to the Town Hall.

"Is Tootie coming?" Timmy asked without thinking. Chester buried his hands in his pockets and looked to the ground with a shrug.

"I didn't really want her there, you know?" he said sadly. "Not exactly a romantic date, is it? Besides, I really don't want to have to get her involved in, you know, _that_ part of my life. My dad interferes enough with all his crap, she doesn't need to be there when he gets sent down for it all."

"Sent down?" Timmy asked quietly.

"Come on Timmy, be reasonable. He's not exactly going to get let off with a slapped wrist for Grand Theft Auto, is he?" Timmy nodded. He had never really thought of that. Chester's father would be sent to prison and as Chester was still only seventeen and he had no idea where his mother was, he was going to be in some serious trouble.

"What's gonna happen to you?" Timmy asked. Chester shrugged and sighed.

"Don't know," he said dryly. "That's for the courts to decide, I guess."

They carried on for a few more minutes in a contemplative silence. Timmy's head buzzed with pity and guilt, while Chester's face was a vision of darkness and sorrow. Then, quite suddenly, Chester broke pace and sat down on somebody's garden wall with his face buried in his hands.

"What if they make me go far away from here, huh Timmy? I mean, what if they put me into care or something? I know it'll only be 'til I'm eighteen, but that's so far away and I..."

"What?" Timmy asked, sitting down beside his friend.

"I can't live that long without her," Chester confessed.

Timmy didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell Chester that he wouldn't be sent away, and that he could see Tootie all the time, but the words wouldn't come because he didn't know how to make them true. "You're pretty tight," he finally said. "You'll survive even if you can't be together for a while."

"Maybe, but God just thinking about not seeing her for all that time hurts so much. You must think I'm so pathetic."

"Come on Chester, you know I don't think that." Timmy smiled brightly and then pulled his friend to his feet. "Come on, we have to go now if we don't want to miss the bus, and there's no point worrying about things that might not even happen, is there?" Chester wiped his eyes and looked up.

"I guess not," he said, as the boys fell back into step.

"Tell you what," Timmy said, still keeping his voice upbeat and cheerful regardless of what was bubbling under his surface. "After the trial, however it turns out, how about you and me go to Tootie's house, grab the girls and go out for ice cream or something?" Timmy grinned and continued in his happy stride, but Chester stopped dead.

"The girls?" Chester repeated, looking completely lost.

"Yeah Tootie and..." he said, faltering as his senses caught up with his mouth.

"Vicky?" Chester said incredulously. Timmy rolled his eyes to the sky. He _really _didn't want to talk about this.

"Come on, we'll miss the bus," Timmy said hurriedly, continuing his step, but Chester held out his hand to stop him.

"Oh, there'll be other buses," Chester said teasingly, despite the grimness of the situation he was about to face. "I think we should talk about this," he said in the tones of some school counsellor who's convinced everyone's problems can be solved by deep breathing and lollipops.

"There's nothing to talk about," Timmy said in a voice that had an edge of a threat to it, but Chester wasn't scared.

"Don't tell me you want to join in Tootie's mission to make Vicky a human being..." Chester said. Timmy's shoulders sagged with relief; perhaps the conversation wouldn't be as bad as he thought. The pair continued to walk, ambling along at a leisurely pace.

"Why shouldn't I?" Timmy asked lightly, pretending he wasn't really all that serious about something he was desperate to know Chester's opinion of.

"Because she's a nutcase?" Chester suggested. "Don't you remember the torture she put you through when you were little? The pain and the yelling and the screaming? The humiliation? And now that she's gotten older she's dissolved into this drunken lunatic who hides in the shadows and won't talk to anyone! Trust me Timmy, there's nothing left there to help."

"Do you really think that?" Timmy asked solemnly.

"Tootie told me the other day just how bad her sister has gotten," Chester said sadly, his voice laced with pity. It was almost a small victory for Timmy, albeit a bitter one that even Chester was too busy feeling sorry for Vicky to be mad at her now.

"And how bad's that?"

"Tootie said she never knew Vicky had it in her. But she does, apparently, and it's killing her. She keeps getting drunk and crying and she doesn't take care of herself. It's making her agitated and jumpy and frightened of her own shadow. Tootie said she's so scared of what Vicky has become now, because it's such a waste, and it's done this to her."

"What has?" Timmy asked eagerly.

"Well, Tootie thinks that Vicky has fallen in love."

Timmy's mouth hung open. He knew that Vicky had feelings for him, and he had guessed they could be love, but to hear it put so simply yet described so destructively, by someone on the outside... It cut him to his very core.

"She doesn't know who it is though," Chester concluded.

-

The judge said that Chester's father could be out of prison within eighteen months with good behaviour. When his sentence had been read out, Chester's father had hung his head and had not had the nerve to look his son in the eye. Even as they led him away and he told Chester to take care of himself, he still did not make eye contact with the boy. As for Chester himself, the judge said that he would have to have all sorts of interviews and things at City Hall tomorrow but, for now, did he have anyone to stay with. He had said he could stay at Timmy's without even having to ask his friend.

Chester's spirits were low as the boys left the courthouse. It had taken less than an hour for Chester's father to be tried, convicted, sentenced and taken away. Timmy wondered if Cosmo and Wanda's trial would be any different, or if they would just be shepherded through like animals and their backs would barely have disappeared out of the door before the judge called 'Next!' He wished with all his heart that he had someone to talk to about it.

Once they got off the bus, Chester buried his hands in his pockets, fixed a smile to his face and took a deep breath. "Shall we go and get the girls, then?" he said in a sarcastic tone.

"Why not?" Timmy replied offhandedly.


	17. She Fell

**A/N: I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who still reads this, and I want to assure you that I have not forgotten it at all. In fact, it plagues my every waking thought that I am not progressing as much as I should. But I have finally beaten my writer's block, and what better proof of that than Chapter 17?**

**By the way, I have discovered the best cure for writer's block. As I idly browsed deviantArt, _not _writing this story as I should have been, I came across green bird of blue sky's gallery, and discovered some beautiful, stunning amazing artwork based on _this fiction_. _My actual story_! I was so moved by what I saw, (especially the picture entitled _'Where Is My Mind?'_, which couldn't be a more accurate portrayal of Vicky's darker times in this fic), that I was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt for not pushing myself a little harder on this. Thank you so so so so much, gb of bs, you are a very talented artist and my gratitude is eternally yours.**

**So without further ado, let us journey onwards. ****Thanks for the support guys!**

**Chapter 17 - She Fell**

When Vicky had arrived home that morning, the scene that met her had been much like she expected. Empty bottles and discarded clothes littered the carpets all through her house, and the stench of strong liquor was overwhelming. It caused a tightening in Vicky's stomach that was so intense it caused her eyes to tear, as much through nausea as it did through memories. The pungent smell, no matter how foul it was, still made Vicky long for one tiny drop of liquid numbness, to quiet her aching heart. She shook her head and pulled a face. Vicky was net yet over feeling disgusted with herself, and a part of her ever doubted she would be. She smoothed her messy hair out of her eyes and tried not to think about it. Her life was on a gradual upturn, and she would not ruin it by running to the arms of the monster she was trying to escape.

There were thankfully no passed out party-goers to be found in her house after a quick search. While this was is some ways relieving, Vicky was slightly worried to find that her parents were not home either. Their car was missing too, and with a dreadful jolt Vicky hoped and prayed that it had been someone sober in charge of the keys. She had checked Tootie's room, not expecting her sister to have returned from Chester's yet, and was quite surprised to find the raven haired girl there, asleep on the floor. Her bed looked as though it had been ruined, and it was clear that when Tootie had returned in the small hours of the morning, she hadn't had the energy to change the sheets and remove whatever debauchery had carried on there last night. Vicky sighed, and shut the door gently.

It was then that she turned her attention to the gargantuan task of tidying her house. She grabbed a few garbage bags from her kitchen and began tossing empty beer cans and wine bottles into them. It was sure to take a while, but she really had no plans for the rest of the day or indeed, the rest of her life.

After having cleared most of the table downstairs, she found that there were sill a few bottle of wine that had managed to survive the night unopened. Her first instinct was to toss them in the trash with the rest of the empties, but as she curled her hand around the smooth glass of one of the bottles, she heard a tiny voice in the back of her mind pipe up at her not to do it. They were still full after all, and they would last quite a while if her parents chose to drink them some other time. Instead she placed them back on the table, resolving to put them back in the wine rack when she was done, and returned to her task.

By the time she had finished just tidying away garbage, it was already midday and her sister was still asleep. There was still much to be done, with stains and smears that lined the walls and carpets needing to be removed, and broken furniture needed to be fixed or thrown out. She was just about to get started on a green smear on her living room wall when she heard a knock at the door. Sighing, she set her bucket and sponge down and headed to her hallway.

"Vicky... uh, hi," Timmy said nervously as she opened the door.

"Hey," she said in a small sigh. She had noticed that Chester was there, but one glance at his face had shown what a depressing mood he was in, and Vicky was not good at dealing with other people's darkness. "You want Tootie?" she asked, directing her question at the space between the two boys.

"Um, yeah," Chester muttered, but it wasn't in the usual, frightened tones he reserved for Vicky. It was with an almost tired voice that he spoke the words, as though he could see no point in filling his misery with talking.

"She's asleep, but I can wake her if you want," Vicky said with a shrug. She felt as though she were on the verge of panicking, but for the love of her she couldn't explain why. "Or you can go up," she continued, "but Tootie might not be too happy with you seeing the state of her room."

"It doesn't matter," Chester said, stepping past Vicky's thin frame. "I know it wasn't her fault." He trudged up the stairs without another word, leaving Vicky and Timmy to stand on opposite sides of the door, entertaining an uncomfortable silence.

"You er.. well, what you up to?" Timmy finally managed to say.

"Nothing much, just tidying," Vicky mumbled, looking at her feet.

"You want some help?" Timmy offered. He looked at her with his innocent bright eyes and Vicky raised her own dull, sunken ones to meet them. He had a small smile on his face, and though Vicky loved it for some reason it made her so mad. She was angry at him for treating this way, all smiles and kind words, after everything she had done to him. She knew that she had already had this argument with herself but her opinion still hadn't changed. She still deserved to suffer for what she had done, and perhaps the reason she was so mad at Timmy was because she thought this was it. He was going to build her hopes up and then strike her down. It was no less than she deserved but she really wasn't certain if she could take it anymore.

"No, it's ok," she replied, a little harsher than she had meant to. "I mean, I'm nearly done now anyway."

If anything Timmy seemed not to notice the way in which Vicky was speaking to him, and with a small pang of sadness she couldn't help but wonder if that was because it was the way she had spoken to him his whole life. "Oh, well, you want to do something when your done? I've got no plans and I think Chester will want to spend today with Tootie," he said, still grinning. The bubble of rage in her chest seemed to burst at this point, and she just wished se would stop smiling at her. He made her feel dirty, as though she had tricked him somehow into forgiving her. Deep down she knew that she didn't really want Timmy to love her, she wanted him to _hate_ her, so she could continue punishing herself for all the things she ever did wrong.

"Look, I can't ok?" she said irritably. "I've got other things to do today."

"Like what?" Timmy asked, a little confused.

"Just things!" Vicky said, her voice so loud she was nearly shouting.

"Um, ok," Timmy said, taking a step back. Vicky closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the hurt look on his face. "Some other time then maybe?" he suggested.

"Whatever," Vicky replied, closing the door softly but still closing it on Timmy all the same. She didn't wait by the door to hear his footsteps fade down the garden path but instead returned at once to her cleaning. She reached into her bucket of soapy warm water and pulled out her sponge, ringing out the excess fiercely between her hands. God, why was she such a screw up? She slammed the sponged against the wall, spotting herself with little bubbles of detergent. She hated herself for not being able to accept Timmy's kindness, especially when she craved it so much. She swiped the sponge angrily back and forth across the stain, trying to focus all the rage she felt for herself onto this task, so that by the time the wall was clean she was exhausted. She dropped the sponge back into the bucket and fell to her knees, sobbing as a pain wracked her body, her fingers crammed into her mouth so that her sister wouldn't hear.

-

Timmy found himself walking to the mall alone that afternoon, his head buzzing with a thousand thoughts that he couldn't comprehend. Why was Vicky being so hot and cold towards him? She so clearly needed someone to reach out to her and help her through this, but as he walked past a familiar coffee shop again he realised that it shouldn't be him. He shouldn't be around her when obviously, what she really wanted to do was not love him anymore. Timmy stopped, just pausing for a second to assess that which he had finally realised.

It should have been clear to Timmy from the outset that just because Vicky was in love with him it didn't mean she wanted to be. In fact, she would have been a fool to want it as clearly she thought he would never love her back. She was perhaps right, he thought as he picked up his pace again. After everything she had done, there was no way he could ever truly love her. He may have told her had forgiven her, but as he thought back to all the very worst things she had put him through, he was starting to wonder if he had really meant it.

He felt the monster inside his chest again. The deep seated sorrow and grief that had taken up residence since Cosmo and Wanda had been taken away. It funny, really, how he seemed to notice it less whenever Vicky was around. That despite the fact that she was more messed up than he was, and he was taking care of her instead of the other way around, she managed to make him feel better. About everything. He knew that there would be a trial soon, and he knew that he would lose his fairies. There was no doubt about that as there was no reason for him to keep them anymore. And though he knew it would hurt like hell a little voice inside him told him that he would make it through just fine if Vicky was there to help him do it. He had realised it, but he had come to depend on her company as much as she had come to depend on his kindness. But it would be wrong for him to use her as comfort when she felt the way she did, and in that moment he knew that he had to stay away.

Chester was right. There was nothing left in Vicky to save, but if Timmy stayed around he would destroy the little she had left.

-

"What happened to your dress?"

Tootie sighed and cast her eyes to her wardrobe, where her favourite party dress was hanging on a hook over the door. It was missing a sleeve, and it had a disgusting brown vomit stain down the front that had seeped onto her lush pink carpet. Chester had just finished telling her everything that had happened and everything that he was due to go through, and suddenly frivolous details like stupid dresses didn't seem to matter anymore. Tootie shrugged.

"Who knows? It's trash now," she said, getting to her feet and tearing it down. She bundled it into a ball and threw it into her waste paper basket.

"How come you had it hanging up?" Chester asked, sniffing and rubbing his red-rimmed eyes. He was exhausted now, and had said all he wanted to say on the subject of his father.

"Oh, I was supposed to be going to a party tonight. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come, but now it's really not important, is it?" She squeezed his hand tightly, and managed to raise just a glimmer of a smile from him.

"You should still go," he said stoutly. Tootie shook her head.

"No, no I couldn't, you need me tonight," she said firmly.

"I could go to," he said, giving her a brave, full on smile. "You know, something to take my mind off of... everything." Tootie wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"Don't force yourself to do anything you don't feel up to, it's not worth it. I wasn't even all that excited about going really," Tootie said honestly.

"No, it'll be good for me," Chester replied. "I can't mope around forever, can I?"

"If you're sure..." Tootie said, fixing her boyfriend with a sideways stare.

"I'm sure," Chester said, getting to his feet and pulling Tootie to hers by her hand. "But I suppose we should hit the mall now though," he said with a mock sigh. "You really can't wear that anymore." He pointed a finger at her waste paper basket.

"True," she replied with a gentle laugh.

-

When Vicky heard footsteps on the stairs she quickly pulled herself to her feet and rubbed her streaming eyes. She grabbed her sponge from the bucket once more and began scrubbing, even though the section of wall she was by was quite clean now. Her sister came into the room, closely followed by Chester, who Vicky felt almost pleased to see was looking a little happier than he did. She didn't really know the boy that well, but he was still her sister's boyfriend, and she was sure that his state of mind would surely affect hers.

"Hey Vicky," her sister said as she sat down on a chair to pull her boots on.

"Hey Toot," Vicky replied, trying not to look at her sister so she wouldn't see her face. Unfortunately for her, though, she was not good enough to hide it.

"Have you been crying?" Tootie asked. Vicky felt herself going red as Chester was now also staring at her, trying to gauge her mood.

"Um, no," she said with a sniff. "It's the chemicals making my eyes itch," she said, pointing to the bucket at her feet. Tootie followed the line of Vicky's finger, and suddenly her face fell into a guilty expression.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry Vicky. I didn't mean to leave you alone to do all this," she said sadly. "Do you want any help?"

"No, it's ok. Looks like you two are off out somewhere, so you may as well go and enjoy yourselves."

"It's only the stupid mall," Tootie said simply. "I don't mind staying."

"No, really, it's fine," Vicky insisted, just wishing her sister would get out of the house before she broke down again.

"Well, then, do you want to come with us?" Tootie asked. "I'm sure all this mess will still be here when we get back."

"I'd rather get it done Toot. I don't mind cleaning, it... uh, it relaxes me," she lied.

"But Vicky..." Tootie protested.

"Just take her will you," Vicky said, now addressing Chester with mock sincerity. He beamed at her and gave her a strange kind of salute, before grabbing Tootie by the hand and dragging her from the room. Vicky didn't breathe out again until she heard the front door close behind them. She grabbed her bucket and moved on to the next stain, concentrating on nothing else but making sure that the house sparkled.

-

Even though the mall was quite a big place, it didn't take Chester and Tootie too long to run into Timmy. He had been sat at the same table of the coffee house for hours now, his mind buzzing with sadness as his thoughts refused to leave Cosmo and Wanda. He would have giving anything just to be able to see them and make sure they were alright. He wanted to hold them and tell them he was sorry he had gotten them into so much trouble. He was just trying not to concern himself with what their punishments might be when his thought train was interrupted.

"Hey, Timmy, what are you doing here?" Chester's voice interjected, jolting Timmy from his mind. He smiled a little, glad that Tootie had managed to cheer his best friend up.

"Nothing much," he replied, taking the last sip of his coffee and tossing the paper cup into the trash can beside him. "What about you?" Tootie held up a shopping bag in response to this that contained her new dress for the party tonight. "Ah," Timmy said.

"There's a party at Trixie's this evening," Tootie said. "You wanna come?" She flashed a knowing smile at him and Chester gave him a jaunty wink. They both knew how he felt about Trixie Tang, but it Timmy was honest with himself he really hadn't thought about her for weeks. His thoughts had been taken up by a completely different girl.

"I dunno," he said, shifting in his seat. "I don't know if I'm up for it."

"Come on Timmy, please?" Chester asked. "It'll be fun, I promise, or your money back." He beamed a winning smile at him and sat down in the chair next to him while Tootie went to get them all drinks. "Trixie will be there, and you know she broke up with Peter over a month ago. She must be looking for fresh meat by now."

"I'd expect Trixie to be there," Timmy said dryly. "It's _her_ party."

"Just come along with us. I mean, you've been a bit sullen the last few days and besides, it could do you good to remind that not all girls are like Vicky." Chester raised his eyebrows at his friend.

_I know not all girls are like Vicky_, Timmy thought defiantly. _That's why I like her so much_.

"Look, if you're not having a good time in the first half hour, you can leave, no questions asked, ok?"

Timmy sighed as Tootie set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of him. "Fine," he said irritably, hoping that a party would at least take his mind off of his grandparents for at least five minutes.

-

Tootie went home alone that evening as Timmy and Chester scoured the mall for something that Timmy could wear. When she got to her house, she was surprised to find it absolutely gleaming. Tootie didn't think that Vicky could have done it, as she wasn't the tidiest person she knew. Her sister was in the garden when she arrived, staring around at the vacant lawn as if she had forgotten something.

"You ok Vicky?" Tootie asked.

"Huh?" Vicky said, turning around to face her sister. "I was just wondering where all the flowers went..." she said in almost a whisper. "It must have been a dream." She shook her head and walked up to her sister, pointing at her purchases that day. "What's in the bag?" she asked, as both girls went inside.

"A new dress for this party tonight. I should start getting ready I suppose," Tootie replied.

"Party?" Vicky said lightly.

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you. Trixie Tang's having this get-together tonight, I'm not really sure what it's all about." Vicky's eyes narrowed childishly at the mention of Trixie's name. "Chester and Timmy are coming too."

"Timmy?" Vicky said, before she could stop herself.

"Uh, yeah. I think Chester plans on getting him and Trixie together, but I don't think it'll ever happen. She's too stuck up if you ask me."

"Really?" Vicky said evenly, her mind now a blaze of hot white fury. She couldn't believe how jealous she was. She knew that Timmy liked Trixie and she really didn't think that he liked her in that way. She had no right to feel bitter over who he did and didn't like. It didn't matter anyway because it would clearly never be her.

"I know he'd like to..." she trailed off, as there was something about the words she was saying that made her feel as if they were all wrong. She could see that the conversation was making her sister uncomfortable, but she never in a million years would have guessed why. "Well, I'll go and get dressed then," Tootie said hurriedly, and she disappeared up the stairs.

-

Timmy had drunk beer before, but never in such large amounts. Usually it was a six-pack that Chester had swiped from his dad that they would drink while they played video games together. It had made him tipsy once or twice, but it had never made him as intoxicated as he was now. His head swam as loud music blared in his ears, and he didn't trust himself to get up off the floor in case he couldn't walk. He had lost Chester and Tootie a long time ago, he had both become very giggly and had disappeared into one of the many bedrooms in Trixie's house. He now found himself on the floor in her hallway, sharing drunken laments with Peter, now Trixie's ex.

"She never loved me you know," Peter slurred, waving his plastic cup under Timmy's nose and sloshing beer down his jeans.

"Mm," Timmy agreed, finding himself unable to form coherent words. He knew he was quite far gone, yet there was an irrational need inside him to have more beer.

"Not like I loved her either you understand," Peter continued, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"Yeah," Timmy grunted, trying to get to his feet.

"Hey, where you going?" Peter demanded, waving his hand around erratically.

"Just to get another drink," Timmy replied. "Don't move," he said, staggering a little, "I'll be right back."

He stumbled to the large table that had been erected in the middle of the gigantic living room and pulled a plastic cup from the top of the stack. There was a large keg in the centre of the room, around which jocks and cheerleaders swarmed as though they were protecting it from thieves. After five minutes of waiting he finally managed to get his cup under the tap wile someone, he didn't know who, pressed it down and filled up his cup. He raised his glass in thanks to the room in general and staggered away. not really intending to return to Peter at all. Instead he spotted Trixie, herself a little worse for drink, sitting alone on a window cushion and gazing out at the street while she methodically sipped from her own beer.

The alcohol had instilled an ill-placed confidence in Timmy, and something inside him told him that if he just said all the right words in the right order, Trixie would be his.

"Hey Trixie," he mumbled, grinning at her. She turned to face him, and a wide drunken smile spread across her face.

"Hey everyone, it's Timmy!" she announced to no one in particular. He sat down next to her, which she didn't seem to mind, and tipped some of his beer into her cup to top it up. "Thanks," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and taking a sip.

"Having fun?" he asked her, swaying a little.

"Oh yeah," she replied firmly. "Best party ever."

"It really is," Timmy agreed, drinking half of his beer in one gulp. "I heard you and Peter broke up, huh?"

"Yeah, he was... you know, that thing," she slurred.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Timmy replied.

"I didn't love him, you know," she said, poking a finger into Timmy's chest.

"He mentioned," Timmy said with a nod.

"It complicates things though, love," Trixie said, spitting the words out as though she hated the taste.

"Tell me about it," Timmy said, his drunken thoughts straying to Vicky. He smiled a little half-smile.

"Whatcha thinking?" Tootie asked flirtatiously.

"About a girl," Timmy replied.

"Is it me?" Trixie asked with a giggle. Timmy turned to face her. Her dark chocolate eyes looked so beautiful, framed by her perfect porcelain skin. Not like Vicky, whose thin, pale lips and sunken eyes were pushed from his mind. Trixie's ruby red lips pouted at him, and he licked his own in response.

"Yeah," he said, feeling rather hot and dizzy. He leaned in to kiss her.

-

Vicky had fallen asleep on the sofa watching television when she was awoken by a loud crash. She jumped to her feet and sped to the front door, where Chester lay sprawled on the floor and Tootie was stood over him, laughing like a banshee. Vicky chanced a small smile. "Little bit drunk, are we?" she asked playfully.

"A little," Tootie conceded in a whisper, holding up her hand with her thumb and forefinger and inch apart.

"You ok down there?" Vicky asked Chester. He scrambled to his feet and smoothed down his shirt.

"Fine, he replied. "Just fine."

"Well, keep it down. Mom and dad are asleep upstairs," Vicky hushed them. Both Chester and Tootie gave Vicky emphatic nods, and then made and over the top show of tip-toeing into the living room. Vicky followed them, an amused grin plastered on her face. "Sit down," she told them. "I'll make you something to eat... maybe get you some coffee," she mumbled as she walked into the kitchen.

When she returned with two mugs and a plate of sandwiches, Chester had fallen asleep and was drooling all over Tootie's shoulder. "That's men for you,2 Tootie said with a small laugh, taking the sandwiches from Vicky and beginning to devour them mercilessly. "I'm starving," she said, through mouthfuls of bread.

"You don't say," Vicky said, with a shake of her head. "Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah," Tootie said, nodding. "The bits I can remember were fantastic."

"Well it won't be as fun tomorrow," Vicky said solemnly.

"You'd know," Tootie said, pointing her sandwich at her sister and not seeming to notice how much her words had hurt. Vicky shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yeah," she said quietly. Tootie munched in silence for a while, her eyes fixed on the television screen, and Vicky followed suit, trying to ignore all the words and memories that were floating around her head. There came a scene in the show they were watching where a young couple were kissing on a porch swing.

"Heh, that reminds me," said Tootie, who seemed to be a little more sober now that she had had something to eat and drink. "I wonder how Timmy got on."

"Hmm? With what?" Vicky asked, trying not to seem to interested.

"With Trixie, of course," Tootie said, turning to her sister. "When Chester and I left they were sitting by the window, trying to eat each others faces. I wonder who'll regret it most in the morning?"

Vicky didn't answer. Her heart had just dropped like a stone into her stomach, and an old fire had resurfaced in her mind. She felt as though someone had literally reached inside and just begun pulling at whatever they could, the pain was so great. Try as she might she couldn't stop herself from imagining Timmy, his lips locked with Trixie Tangs, all thoughts of her forgotten. She had already told herself off that day for being mad at Timmy if he dared to look at other girls, but she found she wasn't mad at him. She was just hurt. Devastated that it wasn't her. She closed her eyes as the tears came, and she got to her feet before she burst into tears.

"I'm going to bed," she said quickly, dashing up the stairs to her bedroom before Tootie could question her. She threw herself face down onto her bed and let the tears flow. She cried for what felt like hours, and she wasn't pulled from it until she heard the front door slam. It was probably Tootie leaving to take Chester home. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, before snaking her hand down the side of her bed to a box she had stored beneath it. For a second she hesitated, but then she pulled it out and got up to kneel beside it. Lifting of the lid, she closed her fingers around the smooth glass of a bottle and picked it out. Then she dived into her bedside drawer and removed a corkscrew that she still kept there, for emergencies, she told herself. She plunged the spike through the metallic wrapper and into the cork below, twisting the handle fiercely as her eyes filled once more with angry tears. The cork slid out with a soft _pop_, and she brought the bottle to her lips.

She had meant to put them away. She really had.


	18. Standstill

**A/N: I'm a bad person. Sorry about the wait and... well, this chapter. I'm not a huge fan of it, but I've got some drawn out, emotion explaning to do. For some reason I can't make Timmy's thoughts towards the end make sense, so if you want to know what the budgerigar I'm going on about, tell me, and I shall try to explain. If you DO understand it, shame on you! Drugs are bad, doncha know?**

**Next chapter shouldn't take two months to come out. If it does, I am indeed a weeekid gurl. - Sky.**

**Chapter 18 - Standstill**

Timmy couldn't remember getting home that night, but when he awoke he felt a thousand different reminders inside of him of all the mistakes he had made. His mouth was so dry he felt as though he hadn't had a sip of water for days, and his head throbbed and pounded. His stomach felt uneasy, and it wasn't helped by the fact that it seemed as though the room was spinning. For just the smallest of painful moments he thought about wishing his hangover away, but a quick glance at his empty fishbowl brought the horrible memories rushing back. Cosmo and Wanda were gone. They had been taken away because of him, and, though the drink had made him forget for a few small hours, now that a new day had broken the guilt all came flooding back.

It felt to Timmy as though there was a storm cloud hanging over him, pushing him down to his knees with the pressure it brought with it. The storm was due to break any day now and Timmy would break with it, feeding it as he did with every second he spent not thinking of Cosmo and Wanda. If he stole just a glimpse of bliss on Earth while they were still sealed away, waiting for their dreadful fate, the cloud would grow and swirl above him, eager to release it's torrent and drown him in his own depression. From the other side of his beer-fuelled release everything seemed ten times worse, and his guilt magnified, as he had been drinking when he should have been trying to help his friends.

Timmy rubbed his stinging eyes, with felt dry and stretched as though he had been up all night, trying not to cry. The sun was hanging high in the clear blue sky, but it was already showing signs of beginning to dip. Timmy glanced at his clock, and saw that it was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. He sighed and pushed himself up, bringing his knees to his chest and wishing he could take last night back. He wished so hard that it cut him like a knife, as it had been so long since he had had a wish denied. He wished he hadn't listened to Tootie and gone to that stupid party. He wished he hadn't lifted that flimsy cup to his lips and let such an amount of beer flow down his throat. He wished he hadn't found her so alluring, sitting on her own, surrounded by lace curtains that fluttered in the breeze. He wished he hadn't kissed her, because she had had such bitter lips.

Trixie had been warm and perfect, Timmy knew, but kissing her had been like sipping acid. Her lips had burnt into his very mind, scarring his conscience, and though her form had been soft and warm in his hands, he found perhaps there was too much flesh, and was surprised to see that he hated the way she held herself. She didn't need his strength to hold her head up, she didn't need his support when he held her. She didn't fall into him, give herself to him completely. He hadn't felt the contusions of her spine when he had ran his hands gently up her back, nor her shoulder blades all too prominent beneath his fingertips. Her long, treacle-coloured hair had not tickled his face with it's roughly hacked split ends, and her tear-filled eyes had not looked at him with hope. Instead, brazen, almond-shaped eyes had stared at him with lust, devoid of longing or warmth, and Timmy had allowed it all to happen. He had held her and kissed her with nothing but animal instincts, and his conscience had shouted and screamed and kicked at him to stop. He had, eventually, and thankfully before he took it too far, but the damage was done. He found himself at conflict, trying to defend himself, yelling over and over that he was free to kiss whoever he liked, and that he didn't owe that wretched babysitter a single, god-damned thing.

-

Wanda was crying, and she felt as though she would never, ever stop. Time was slipping by so slowly that it made her want to pull her hair out and scream, but there was nothing she could do. No one Fairy World could help her; no one wanted to. As far as the higher-ups were concerned, she and her husband had breeched the law so badly, and all for the love they had felt for their godchild. It made no sense to Wanda, who could think of a million more worse crimes. She finally saw it from Cosmo's point of view; she felt the pain and the torment, it tore at her soul like fire, but she also felt the rage, and she wondered if Cosmo had too. Had he felt this monster inside him rear and snap when they were forced to leave yet another godchild? Had he wanted to lash out and hurt people because of Fairy World and it's unjust rules? And, when the time came, had he kept it all subdued for her? Had he suffered in silence, because Wanda was too blind to see that her husband was dying inside? Had he resented her for it, even for just a second? Wanda bit her lip, but the tears continued to fall. She rested her head against the cold metal bars and wished for the thousandth time that she could see him.

After all the accusations she had thrown at him, all the blame she had cast his way, had it been _her_ who had failed him in the end?

-

"We are willing to cut a deal with you, One Six Nine."

Jupitus Starr had long since left, but the words continued to echo around Cosmo's brain. There wasn't even anything to think about, but the heavy feeling in Cosmo's heart continued to bother him. Jupitus had said he would let Wanda go if Cosmo told him everything. If he mentioned every little detail of his unwished magic, every iota so that it could all be undone, Wanda's crime would be pushed to the background and she would be free to go. Of course, Cosmo would still have to be punished, his crime was to great to be ignored, and though Jupitus promised he would try and sway the sentence away from execution, in the end he _had_ to listen to the voice of the people. But Wanda would be part of that voice then, Jupitus had said, and surely _her_ voice would be screaming to let you live. Cosmo had agreed at once, desperate that Wanda be freed from her cell. It was only afterwards, when he thought of all the things she would say and how she would scold him, that he felt the tinniest pang of regret. Wanda wouldn't have wanted Cosmo to sacrifice Timmy's happiness for hers, but then Wanda need never know. She was unaware of Vicky's feelings for Timmy, or of Timmy's basic need for the redhead. She didn't know about any of it. Cosmo just hoped that Timmy would be fine.

There was the small sound of a lock being undone, and Skitch, Jupitus's assistant, floated nervously into the room. He approached Cosmo as though the green-haired fairy was liable to take his head off at any second, and Cosmo wondered what lies Jupitus had told to allow Cosmo to be sealed inside this awful cell. Did Fairy World think he was dangerous? Had Jupitus told everyone that he was an unstable menace, a psychopath? Cosmo knew he wasn't smart, but something just didn't feel right. If they had both been free and armed, Skitch would still have had nothing to fear from Cosmo, and yet he trembled like a leaf in the wind at the thought of facing him, wandless and restrained.

"Mr. Starr has sent me to speak to you, One Six Nine," Skitch said in a whisper of a voice. Cosmo didn't respond; he felt too numb to say anything. Skitch cleared his throat nervously and continued.

"He... that is, er, Mr. Starr, tells me that you are willing to co-operate with our... er, our offer." Cosmo felt a sudden rush of anger. He wanted to know why this fairy was so scared of him, what everyone was saying about him behind his back.

"Why are you trembling?" he demanded. Skitch flinched, floating a foot or so further away from Cosmo and holding his clipboard to his chest like a shield. Clearly there was a voice in Skitch that told him he was in charge and that he didn't have to answer a lowly prisoner, because he said nothing, and chose instead to clear his throat once more.

"Your wife... hereafter known as.. as...," he consulted his clipboard, "as Two Four Four, will be released on the condition that you give us information that... will enable members of the reversal squad to... to correct your error." Skitch looked almost on the verge of tears now.

"I'll tell you anything you want me to," Cosmo said quietly. "Please, just let her go."

Skitch looked confused. To Cosmo it was obvious that there was a conflict going on his mind between what he had been told and what he was now seeing before him. This broken shell of a fairy was clearly no threat, and yet Skitch had clearly been told that Cosmo was dangerous, volatile even. Perhaps Skitch came to the conclusion that Cosmo's weakness was just an act designed to lure him into a false sense of security, because he suddenly straightened up as though he had heard a gunshot, and looked down to his notes again.

"I'm going to take a statement from you now," he said, in a falsely confident voice that shook with nerves. "Do you understand?"

Cosmo wanted to just nod, but the restraint around his forehead would not allow him to do so. He sighed a little. "I understand," he replied in a whisper, his eyes cast to the floor.

-

Vicky saw the sunrise that morning. She watched quietly from her window as pale streaks of gold and pink filtered into the grey sky, shining the pale white clouds with silver. In her hand she clutched her nameless teddy bear, and in the other an almost empty bottle of wine. It was her first, and though the first few glorious mouthfuls had been enough to make her dizzy, it hadn't bean enough to quell the pain. She had drunk resolutely though, through the dizziness and into the mind fogging heaviness, ignoring the raw feeling in her throat but still her heart had ached. It wasn't enough anymore, she realised, to numb her tired feelings. They were exhausted and stretched to breaking now, and not even alcohol could take away the strain of loving Timmy, not even for a few hours. She still held the bottle tightly though, as though it were some talisman to ward away her pain, but she hadn't drunk for what must be hours now. She had just sat, still and empty, and watched the sun come up on her broken world.

Tootie had not come home, and her parents had left without checking either of their rooms. Vicky was old enough now to not need someone to look in on her in the mornings, but as she watched this particular morning fade into an afternoon, she wished at least one person would show her they cared. But then, she thought bitterly, squeezing her toy fiercely between her thin fingers, she had thrown all that away a long time ago, hadn't she? She had bullied and tormented anyone in her life who could ever have cared just a little, until they had hated her so much that they could truly rejoice in the pain she was currently in. It tore her to shreds inside to feel this way, and yet people would be glad to see her suffering as she had once made them suffer. No one would offer a helping hand to a drowning girl, she had spent too many years throwing them to the depths herself. But then, she thought, bringing the bottle to her lips but not drinking, she would not have wished this pain upon them. Yes, she had been cruel and spiteful, but she would never have done this to them.

With the bottle still held to her lips she screwed her eyes up and threw it at the floor. She had been a monster. She would have forced this pain upon them back then without a second thought, if only she had the means. If she had known how powerful love could truly be instead of dismissing it and throwing it aside in favour of fame and wealth, she would have forced them all to writhe and tremble in it's unrelenting grasp, if only she could. She would have danced and sang and howled with laughter as she watched their hearts break into thousands of pieces, having denied them the love they so desperately craved. But, of course, that power would always be out of her reach, because no one had ever loved Vicky, and no one ever would. She was starting to feel so afraid that there was nothing left of her to love.

-

Timmy wanted to apologise to her, despite his conviction that he had done nothing wrong. He wanted to say how sorry he was for whatever he had done that made her love him, and if he could he would go back in time and make sure he never did it again. He wanted to see her face, with it's smile and it's smouldering eyes, and say look, you're fine, I didn't hurt you after all. He wanted to see her hair neatly tied back, he wanted to see her fists curled and her teeth bared, and he wanted her shout. He wanted her to spit at him and say 'Love you? Don't be ridiculous, twerp! Why on Earth would I ever love _you_?' He wanted her to feel better, but the guilt and honesty inside him made him admit that he wanted to hold her until she did.

His need to see her was like an addiction. It cured everything, being around Vicky. It made him believe that Cosmo and Wanda would be fine, and that he would get to see them again whenever he wanted. It made him feel better to see the way she looked at him, with so much love in her eyes he didn't think it was possible for anyone to feel that way. And he could ignore, if he tried, the pain in her once so alluring eyes, and pretend that she was going to be alright as well. But he had sworn not to see her, because it was just feeding her false hope and hurting her even more, and Timmy had too much guilt inside him as it was. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands, sobbing, and wishing there was someone around who could understand.

-

Vicky finally stood up from her chair just as the sun was beginning to set again. Her bones felt stiff and her head was beginning to ache a little. She wanted to take a bath, to clear her head, but it felt like such a way to go and such an effort when all she really wanted to do was to curl up under her duvet and try her very best not to exist. However, it soon began to rain despite the sunshine, and Vicky couldn't stand to watch it or listen to it fall, as it reminded her so much of Timmy it felt as though her heart was on fire. She dragged herself to her bathroom and bent over, putting the plug in the bottom of the tub and switching the hot tap on full. She let the rushing, crashing sound of the water fill her head, so much more abrasive and angry than the rain, which to her had always sounded like whispers, but that was something to soft for her to say aloud. The steam filled the room, fogging the windows and the mirror, making her feel surrounded and protected from all the harsh reality that existed on the other side of the locked door. Slowly, she peeled off her nightdress and lent against the cool tiles, allowing her skin to twitch and flinch against the cold porcelain, raising goose pimples all over her frail arms.

When the tub was full, Vicky stepped in delicately, lowering herself into it's relaxing depths and closing her eyes. Though she was far from at peace, just the gentle sensation of the water lapping at her contours and her naked flesh eased her troubles a little, and she wished she could freeze herself in that moment, keeping an eternal distance between now and the moment when Timmy would once again invade her thoughts. She wanted to not think about the pain she used to cause him, or the pain he was causing her now. She wanted to think of things that made her smile, like the night they had spent together in the tree house, or how she had held him like a protector in the mall. She wanted to think of the few things she had done right since the night she delivered that pizza to his door, of all the foundations she had lain down which would soon support beautiful bridges. She wanted, also, to fantasise, about wedding days and nights, and futures filled with stars and love. Instead she found herself thinking about something she hadn't for a while, something she had almost forgotten.

Vicky drifted off to sleep, her thoughts concentrated on Timmy Turner's secret.

-

"I want to know what's going on," the pink-haired fairy demanded. "Please, just tell me, is Cosmo ok?" The two guards beside her said nothing, their faces fixed resolutely on the door. Wanda's arms felt sore and bruised, but she sat still with her eyes dry and unblinking. It had been nearly an hour since she had been pulled from her cell, with too much force to contest the fight she was putting up. She had been led to the room she now found herself in, with restraints around her wrists as though she had the energy to try to escape. They had sat her on a cold metal chair and placed her hands on a table where they could see them, but since the other guard had closed the door she had heard nothing since. No one had said a word to her during any of it, no matter how hard she pleaded for answers, and she was so afraid of what was coming she couldn't stop herself from shivering. Suddenly, the door opened, and Jupitus Starr floated into the room.

"I have good news, Two Four Four," he said promptly. "You are free to go." One of the guards behind her seemed to snap out of his stoic trance at Jupitus's words and floated forwards to undo her handcuffs.

"What?" Wanda asked, her voice high and panicking. "Where's Cosmo? Is he free too?" Something about the smug look on Jupitus's face had already told Wanda that Cosmo was in a lot of trouble, but she needed to know what was happening to her husband.

"One Six Nine... er, _Cosmo_," Jupitus said with a condescending smirk, "has confessed to everything. You are free to go."

"Please, tell me what's going on!" Wanda begged as one of the guards pulled her roughly to her feet. "Is he going to be alright? What's going to happen to him?"

"All in good time, Two Four Four, all in good time," Jupitus replied, opening the door so that Wanda could be removed from the room. "I will have one of the guards return to you your wand and take you to my office. I have a few things to attend to first, of course, I am a busy man, but I will be with you shortly." He offered her a small bow as she left the room, and she knew it would be pointless to protest. She allowed a guard to lead her back through the wing, past her now vacant cell and the leering eyes of all the other prisoners, to the door she had first come through all those nights ago.

-

Timmy hadn't left his room all day not even to eat. Somehow it didn't seem important, and the quiet stillness of his house only reinforced his belief that there really was no one who could help him. He hated himself for coming to rely on the one person he would never have dreamed of asking for help, hated himself for allowing his comfort to rest in the arms of someone he had all but forgotten about. Vicky had been nothing to him for so long, her visits in the last two years as his babysitter barely registering in his mind. She couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him when she came, it was almost as if she wasn't there. But then he remembered back to the night when his dad had told her she wouldn't be needed anymore, about what he had written in his diary. He had been relying on her for a lot longer than he realised, almost trusting her with his secret in a twisted sort of way, because Timmy knew she was aware of it. And that, perhaps, was the reason he couldn't get her off his mind, perhaps even the reason he truly could forgive her. She was still spiteful, and cruel, and mean-spirited, but she had known he had a secret, and she had never tried to find out what it was or take it away from him. She had let him keep it all to himself, and she had never poked or prodded or demanded to know. Everything else, every silly little trivial adolescent secret she had snatched away, but when she saw the importance of this one she had backed away and let him have it. She had helped, and he had never even noticed. It barely made sense, but Timmy wondered if she truly looked into his eyes now, would she see that he had lost it? Would she see that someone else had snatched it away from him instead?

Timmy sighed deeply. He had to see her. He wanted to spill everything and talk to her, throwing caution to the winds. She would understand, because he some way he was certain she already knew. It was selfish, but Timmy didn't care how seeing him would affect her. He was in far too much pain. He got to his feet and slipped on his trainers, walking across his room towards his door. There was a soft sort of noise behind him.

"Where are you going?" a voice asked quietly.


	19. Nothing Left to Lose

**A/N: So it turns out I am a weekid gurl. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and basically told me to get my arse in gear about this story. I really needed that. You may be pleased to hear, however, that while I was in the shower, my muse visited me, (the pervert), and painted out the way in which I should end this story. Now that I have an ending, there should be no more writer's block, and I also have a weekend to myself. I shall make no promises, (I have learnt my lesson), but I shall keep my fingers crossed for some more progression in this here stone around my neck. :) Please enjoy Chapter 19, (it's not that good, but Vicky and Timmy _almost_ talk things out. Plus it's nearly eight thousand words, a sorry for how long I've kept you waiting). All my love and eternal gratitude for sticking by me, Sky.**

(On a more personal note: HP and the Deathly Hallows: WTF?)

**Chapter 19 - Nothing Left to Lose**

Vicky wandered, quite aimlessly, through halls lined with pictures she did not understand. Faces stared down at her from the countless frames, but she knew not a single one of them, and they yielded no comfort to her. Instead, she found herself feeling trapped within her own skin, desperate to run away or shut her eyes against their relentless stares, which seemed accusatory, as though she had been the one to order their genocide. Each face looked down on her with an expression of anger mingled with pity. It was a look she had seen a thousand times, but usually it stared out at her from the face of Timmy Turner. These people on the walls were strangers, people who she felt had no right to look at her in that way, but as they were mere photographs all she could do was keep her head bowed and keep walking, hoping that somewhere there was an exit amongst the endless halls before her.

The light in the halls came only from the dimming lamps mounted over each picture. They flickered with Vicky's every step, and the strain was beginning to hurt her eyes. For a moment she felt it would be alright if she just stood still, though the mere thought made her heart beat that much quicker. What if she was being followed by a being who's steps did not upset the lights? She shook her head fiercely, trying to dispel her childish fears. She was not being followed and anyway, Vicky knew perfectly well that this was a dream, even if it was the fiendish kind that had the knack of keeping you from waking. However, the fact that she was aware that it was her imagination creating her situation just doubled the chances that something hostile would soon turn up and, pulling her long, brown cardigan tightly around her skinny frame, she walked onwards, her quickened pace mirrored by the flickering of the lamps.

"Vicky!" It was more of a scream than a shout, high-pitched and ear-splitting, and it froze Vicky to the spot.

"Who... who's there?" she called nervously, her voice quivering every syllable out of her reluctant throat.

There was, as is often the case in terrifying nightmares, no answer. The eerie silence continued on as if it had never been interrupted, and sensing that it would be safer to do the same, Vicky carried on walking. She had barely managed two steps when the hideous voice crowed her name out once more. She stopped again, and, instead of trying to figure out who was yelling at her it would be simpler just to find out what it was they wanted.

"Yes?" she ventured. The word leapt from her mouth with much more force than she intended, and Vicky was almost certain that her sleeping form was probably mumbling and thrashing a little as it lay in her bed.

The voice screamed again, but it was muffled this time, and Vicky could not make out what it was saying. The pictures on the walls continued to glare down at her, and she reached the conclusion that it really was time she ought to be waking up. For a moment, just a fleeting one, something in her brain begged her not to do it, but by then it was too late and the next thing Vicky knew she was sitting bolt upright in her bed, her duvet tangled around her ankles and her nightdress hitched up to a very undignified height. There was another thump on her door, and the high-pitched voice that was uniquely her sister's very own sounded through the wood once more.

"Vicky!"

"I'm up," Vicky snarled through gritted teeth, rubbing her eyes against the onslaught of the sun and yawning. The door opened meekly, and Tootie's head appeared in Vicky's room.

"Um," she began nervously, all to aware that despite recent fond moments between the two, she had probably just annoyed her big sister. "Mom and I are going to the store. Um, do you want anything?" Vicky just shook her head in an irritated fashion and flopped herself back onto her bed, Tootie's cue to disappear once more, which she did without faltering. Vicky listened for a while to the sound of her sister's soft footsteps on the stairs, keeping her eyes shut and her long pale forearm draped across her face.

The dream was starting to filter from her mind, escaping her senses like sand through her fingers. It seemed, now at least, so much less intense than it had while she was dreaming it, but she supposed this was quite often the case. The ludicrousness of some dreams is only apparent when you're not being subjected to them anymore. She did remember quite clearly her impulse to not wake up, however, and in a quick flash that coincided with her sister shutting the front door it all came flooding back.

Timmy. Trixie. Kissing.

A day spent staring at nothing and feeling like it too.

The bath that had relieved her feelings a little, and the sleep that followed that had taken them away entirely.

Her father hammering on the door, yelling at her to get out.

Falling into this bed, surrounded by the sweet smell of her bath oils and the black clouds of her depression.

Sleep once more, and a dream that she could no longer remember.

She let out a soft sob, but did not open her eyes. She longed to fall asleep again, as although she had been frightened, and worried, she knew she hadn't been heartbroken.

-:-

Timmy had spent his night much like Vicky had spent hers, except his nightmare was real and he was very much awake. He had, at first, been overjoyed to see Wanda, floating nervously behind him, so overjoyed that her had thrown his long, awkward arms around the tiny fairy and held her as tight as he dared to without crushing her. After what seemed like years, during which Timmy had been very vocal and not really said very much and Wanda had remained stoic and therefore expressed tomes of feeling, they had broken apart and Timmy had asked the inevitable question.

"Where's Cosmo?"

For a moment, Wanda looked quite normal, and Timmy had half expected her to tell him that his Godfather was out getting ice cream or something equally mundane and pleasant, but then the pink-haired fairy had collapsed into tears, dropping down so far that her feet nearly scraped the ground. A sweeping dread filled Timmy as though he had just breathed icy cold water into his lungs, and a feeling of intense foreboding manifested itself in his chest.

"Wanda..." he began, half fearful to finish his sentence. "What's happened?"

For a long time, it seemed as though Wanda would be in no state to answer, and Timmy simply sat on his bed with his arms around her as she floated softly beside him, howling with a primal pain that Timmy was terrified to find out the cause of. To Timmy it seemed that she was now only accepting the huge actuality of what was about to befall Cosmo, (or what had already befallen him, Timmy thought, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he did so), and he felt that it was important for Wanda to get her grief and anguish out of the way now, so that she was not tempted to break down while the pair worked tirelessly to make right whatever it was that had gone so dreadfully wrong. Sitting about and accepting it was simply not an option to Timmy, who would sooner have thrown himself into the canyon than accept that his godfather was...

"Wanda," he began sternly, correcting both himself and the weeping fairy in his arms. "Wanda, please, I need to know. Is Cosmo... is he..." Timmy's voice gave out on him, and he stared ashamedly into his lap. Wanda sniffed and furiously rubbed her eyes, beating back the legions of fresh tears that threatened to fall.

"He isn't dead," she said resolutely, and Timmy wondered if it was a fact or a determined effort to convince herself. "Yet," she said, with a sense of conclusion.

"What do you mean, yet?" Timmy whispered, squeezing Wanda's hand gently to reassure her. He was greatly relieved when she squeezed his a little firmer in return.

"The Fairy Council," she began, spitting the words out with a faint sort of malice that still managed to survive beneath all of her grief. "They've sentenced him to be... des- destroyed."

Timmy leapt to his feet. "What!" he cried, the injustice of it all welling up inside of him like an angry monster, scrabbling up his throat and clawing it's way out of his mouth. "They can't do that! Just because you both wanted to stay with me! Just because you... "Timmy began to falter once more, and looked down at Wanda with an ugly question in his eyes that he wished wasn't there. "Because you both care about me," he finished. "Both... why...?" He couldn't seem to form it. The words wouldn't come. Luckily, Wanda understood what he was getting at.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, and it was without a trace of offence in her voice. "Why is he being destroyed for it if I still get to live?" Timmy nodded numbly, hating to think of what was going through Wanda's mind. At best, she may believe that he thought she was capable of letting Cosmo give up his life in exchange for hers. At worst, she thought he was wishing it was Cosmo who was sat before him right now while Wanda sat nervously in a cold, blank cell, waiting to die.

"They're not destroying him because we overstayed our assignments," Wanda said bitterly.

"Then why?" Timmy asked desperately, sitting back down beside her with disbelief etched on every feature of his face.

It was then that Wanda launched into an explanation of everything Jupitus Starr had told her before she had been ordered to materialise directly into Timmy's room. Timmy sat silently and listened, shaking his head every now and then and trying his best to understand _why_ Cosmo had done what he did. None of it made any sense to Timmy. Why on Earth would Cosmo sacrifice his life, just to make a little extra bit of the town? The tears began to leak from Timmy's eyes before he could stop them, and it wasn't long before he was asking the empty air how Cosmo could have been so stupid. When Wanda finished talking she too was in tears again, and they both just sobbed until there were no more tears left inside them to cry.

"They've taken my magic away, too," Wanda concluded quietly, but she obviously didn't care.

"What? Why?" Timmy asked, staring at her with deepest sympathy through his red-stained eyes. Wanda just shrugged noncommittally.

"Punishment, I suppose," she said. "I can never leave this room. Never again."

Timmy's eyes widened. "What do mean? For how long."

"Never again," Wanda repeated, as though she hadn't heard Timmy's question and was simply contemplating the vastness of the years that stretched out before her.

"Even when I move out?" Timmy asked, his incomprehension towards the Fairy Council and it's actions now stretched to breaking point.

"Even when you... die. I have to be here, in this room, forever. I'm not even allowed to see Cosmo ever again."

"This is wrong," Timmy said plainly. Wanda merely sighed beside him. She sounded exhausted. "Sleep," he suggested kindly, getting up from his bed so that she could slide beneath the covers. "I'm going out for a walk. I need to clear my head."

-:-

Of course he had known before he'd even reached the foot of his stairs that he was heading to Vicky's house. Morning had well and truly broken by this point and though Timmy hadn't slept for so long he didn't feel remotely tired. His mind buzzed with awful thoughts that threatened to rip him to shreds, and he needed to talk to Vicky about it all. As strange as it sounded, Timmy was certain that the old Vicky still lurked somewhere within the broken, frail new one, and if anyone could find a way to get Cosmo out of his situation it was the babysitter who had terrorised Timmy for so long. Though he didn't think it was wise to provoke the old Vicky out of her hiding place, he had to admit that it had occurred to him, in the corners of his mind, that perhaps the old Vicky was a better Vicky for her to be, as this new one seemed to be falling apart at the seams, and soon, there would be nothing left there at all.

The walk didn't take him long, and he was astonished to find that it was partly because he taken the same route so many times in his head. The beginnings of a headache thumped at Timmy's brain, but Timmy knew it was due to lack of sleep and tried his best to ignore it. He worried, just briefly, that Vicky would not grant him an audience. After what he had done with Trixie, (although h hadn't quite yet worked out how she could know about it, he just had a heavy, sick sort of feeling in his gut), it was unlikely that his was a face she would want to see. Crazily, he did feel the same creeping onsets of guilt he had felt the other night when he had first tried to justify the kiss to himself. It wasn't as though he and Vicky were in love, was it? He knew he didn't have feelings for her. Not ones that mattered, at any rate. He couldn't live the rest of his life skirting around her feelings for her sake. It wasn't fair on him, and he was determined to make her see that if it was the last thing he ever did. Embittered with this new determination, he strode forcefully up her garden path and hammered quite loudly on her front door, breathing heavily.

After a nervous few minutes, during which Timmy had glanced at the driveway and noticed the distinct absence of a car, he began to wonder if there was anyone home. He had merely assumed that because of her state, Vicky would always be at home, moping and crying, and then a split second later he realised how conceited that sounded. He cleared his throat, as if he had just said something embarrassing, and knocked again, a little more gently this time.

Through the glass panels of the door he could see a hunched figure topped with a shock of red ambling towards the door. Much to his surprise, Timmy found himself smoothing down the hair that peeked out from beneath his baseball cap and standing up a little straighter. He cursed himself inwardly, knowing for a fact that he had no reason, and no desire to impress Vicky. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was just his natural teenage instinct for whenever he was in the presence of a pretty girl. And then he cursed himself inwardly again.

The door opened, but only up to a sliver of space, and one of Vicky's bloodshot eyes appeared in the gap. "Timmy!" she gasped, her voice sounding tired and cracked. She caught herself just in time and straightened up. "Tootie isn't here," she said flatly.

"I, er, I didn't come to see Tootie," Timmy said, suddenly feeling that his whole plan had been a very stupid idea. Vicky was the kind of person who had time for no one but herself. Even now, when she had succumbed to the ravages of love, she would still be too busy feeling depressed and pathetic to listen to anyone else. Timmy shook his head.

"Then why did you come here?" Vicky demanded.

Timmy took a deep breath and fixed her eyes squarely with his own. "I came to speak to you," he said calmly. She regarded with a mixture of suspicion and dread, as though he was about to launch into a tirade of how she was worthless and how ridiculous she was to think that he could ever love her. Timmy saw it in her eyes; the hurt and the anguish, and more terribly, how hard she was trying to hide it all from the world. She shut her eyes against him, as though she could feel him reading her thoughts, and opened the door up a little more.

"What about?" she asked, as if she didn't really care.

"It's sort of complicated," he said, offering a sad sort of smile in the hopes of winning her over. It seemed to work, as she stepped to one side and threw the door completely open.

"You should probably come in, then," she said resignedly, and as Timmy followed Vicky's thin frame down her hallway, he saw her place a small, scruffy teddy bear on a table by the wall.

-:-

The public had spoken, or at least, Jupitus had leaned heavily on them, and now Cosmo was going to die. His eyes flicked about the room, desperately searching for something that could be indicative of the passage of time, but there was nothing. He was no longer strapped into the torturous chair he had been for so long and was now in a cell reminiscent of the one he had first been placed in when he had been taken to jail. It was an improvement, undoubtedly, but Como found that he simply could not appreciate it. He had been there for what he guessed was a little over an hour. An hour since he had been moved, condemned, and locked up for the last few days of his life. He had been told his cell mate would be back from the exercise yard soon, which was something else Cosmo was not looking forward to. He was in no mood to make friends, and in a place like this that only left him with brand new enemies to find.

-:-

Vicky had felt the anger flare up in her from the second she had seen that it was Timmy who had roused her from her bed. The fact that he had been on her mind mere moments before was not helped by his physical presence, as it was much easier to let herself be overwhelmed with her depression when he only existed inside her head. Why exactly she had let him into her home without much of a fight was not immediately apparent to Vicky, but she supposed it had rather a lot to do with the fact that no matter how bad she felt or how many other girls he kissed, some part of her would be eternally living in hope. She had led the way to the sitting room, however, as she felt she had seen enough of Timmy's back to last her a lifetime.

He sat down straight away without being asked, but Vicky saw immediately that it was not rudeness but preoccupation that caused him to do so. After a moment's hesitation she sat down too, not on the couch next to him but on the floor, with her legs folded up tightly beneath her to preserve what little modesty she had left in her flimsy nightdress. Timmy just stared at his hands for a while, and Vicky could feel the waves of despair coming off of him, waves that were so familiar to her but usually her own. She wanted to say something to provoke conversation from him, feeling like she hadn't in a long time that the world continued to turn, and continued to burden those around her with problems of their own. No words came to mind, however, so she too stared at her hands, noticing the brittle yellowness that her nails had succumbed to.

Timmy sighed softly, clearly unaware that he was doing so. Vicky looked up from her hands, and the age-old words leapt from her mouth before she could even think about stopping them.

"What's wrong?" she asked delicately.

"Like I said," Timmy began, looking at her with a self-deprecating grin, "it's complicated."

"Well," she said with a sniff. "I've got all day to try to understand."

Timmy's smile brightened then, and Vicky was aware that she should be looking at him with some cheesy, forget-my-pain-I'm-here-for-you smile, but all she felt was numb. She was more than certain that all she would get from the conversation would be extra heartache, as Timmy's problem was certain to be both something she couldn't help him with and something she didn't want to hear. If it was founded in girl problems, relationship issues, or anything of that ilk, she seriously doubted she would be able to stand it, and was likely to throw him from the house before he'd even had the chance to ask her what he should do. But then, on the other hand, girl troubles and the discussion of same would surely lay under the jurisdiction of Chester, his best friend, and not the girl-slash-woman who had once made his life a misery.

"Someone I care about is in trouble," he finally began lamely.

For a heart jolting moment, Vicky thought she was the someone he cared about. But then it occurred to her that nothing had really changed for her recently, and she wasn't exactly in trouble. Everything was the same for her as it had been for a long time.

"Who?" she asked lightly.

"I... you see, it's..." Timmy faltered, and Vicky was so afraid that he was searching for the right words to break terrible news to her with that she wanted to clamp her hands to her ears and shut his tired voice out completely. Instead she kept her eyes fixed stonily on his, a faint smile plastered on her face lest she betray the torment that was going on beneath her breast.

"You can tell me," she said, her voice cracking a little despite her best efforts. "You know I won't..." she had wanted to say 'mind', but that didn't seem right. If it was about a girl, he knew she would mind, and then he would know she was lying and the whole conversation would have come crashing into the ground. She searched desperately around for a way to finish her sentence.

"...tell," she whispered some time later, feeling that there had been too pregnant a pause for Timmy to truly buy what she was saying.

"I know you won't tell," Timmy said, seemingly unworried by her broken speech, "but they'll know anyway." He laughed bitterly, a sound that Vicky knew had nothing to do with amusement. She couldn't get her head around his last sentence, and she looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"They? Who's they? And how will they know?"

Timmy looked at her nervously, as though he had just blurted out something terrible. Then his eyes began to dart around the room, and he began to twist his fingers together irritably in his lap. Vicky got to her feet and went to sit beside him on the couch. Her fears that this had something to do with a girl, (Trixie), had all but been dispelled, and she even found herself forgiving him already for what he had done at the party the other night. Not, she reprimanded herself, that he had anything to feel guilty about. She was very clear on that, as Timmy had no responsibilities towards her whatsoever, no matter how much she longed for him to.

"Timmy," she said gently. "What's going on?"

Timmy finally allowed his eyes to rest, this time on Vicky's lips, and he swallowed hard. His thoughts were with Wanda, and how he shouldn't have left her alone in that room with nothing but her knowledge of what was about to happen to Cosmo to keep her company. "Vicky, do you-" he began, but he faltered and then fell silent altogether.

"Do I what?" she asked, but Timmy just shook his head. "Timmy," she said forcefully, in a tone that told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him to look at her. "Ask me."

"Do you believe in fairies?" he blurted out, and it was apparent to him straight away that he had confused Vicky with this question. Clearly she had been expecting something a lot more grown up and important than an enquiry about fantastical creatures. She looked away briefly, and Timmy wondered if he had hurt her feelings by making it seem as if he didn't trust her and was changing the subject to something silly. "I mean it," he said earnestly.

Vicky's first instinct was to reply straightaway that of course she didn't, and that the notion was ridiculous. But then something inside told her to think about it for just a moment. Admittedly though she had only dreamt about him twice, she had seen a green-haired man who she was certain was her imagination's idea of what a fairy should look like. She had assumed that it was also her imagination giving her the sense of familiarity when she looked at him, but now, what with Timmy's comments, she wasn't inclined to believe that it was all a big coincidence. But still, fairies? Even though Timmy was younger than her he was still too old to be believing in such things.

"I don't know Timmy," she began uncertainly, now casting her eyes wildly around the room. Timmy had caught her off guard with this strange thread of conversation. She wondered where he was going with it. "I-" she began, but Timmy cut her off.

"No, don't worry about it," he said hastily. "It was stupid, forget I mentioned it."

"No, no, it wasn't stupid," Vicky protested gently. "I mean, I just wondered... what have fairies got to do with anything?" she asked.

"What do you mean, anything?" Timmy replied.

"Our situation," Vicky said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was only after she had said it that she realised that perhaps it wasn't.

"Oh," said Timmy, clearly uncomfortable. It hadn't occurred to him that Vicky might think the reason for his visit was so that he could talk things out with her, perhaps set her straight on the matters of what was and what wasn't ever going happen between them. He felt himself flush, both with guilt and anger at himself for not seeing this coming. Vicky was clearly uncomfortable too, she clearly thought that perhaps she had been wrong when she thought Timmy knew how he felt about her.

"No wait, obviously that's not why you came here, so let's just ignore that and get back to what you were saying," she said, words spilling out of her like ineffectual shields against the tension between them.

"Vicky, I-" Timmy began in a voice laced with sympathy and apology.

"No, it doesn't matter," she said, waving her hands in front of her as though waving Timmy's failure to reciprocate her feelings away. "Why did you come here really? Please, just tell me."

"I told you," Timmy said, his voice returning to it's mournful tone. "Someone I care about is in trouble."

"Who?" Vicky asked, her eagerness to get away from the last topic of conversation all to obvious in her tone.

"My godfather," he said quietly.

If Vicky had been expecting anything, it certainly hadn't been that.

"Your godfather?" she repeated back to him. "What's happened to him? Is he ok?"

"He's in prison," Timmy replied dully. "He's been sentenced to death."

Vicky gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. Suddenly, her problems seemed so trivial and insignificant, and all she wanted to do was alleviate Timmy's grief somehow. At the same time, however, something stopped her short. If he was on Death Row, then Timmy's godfather must have done something pretty bad. She was lost for words, and clearly it showed on her face because Timmy did not wait for her to try to speak.

"But he hasn't done anything wrong," he said, his voice tinged with the mad desire and need for Vicky to believe him, which she found herself doing instantly.

"What do they say he's done?" she found herself asking in a husky whisper. Timmy shook his head and looked away. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to be so..."

"No, it's ok, it's just that where he is, they... they sort of sentence you to death for things that aren't even really wrong." Vicky nodded numbly, thinking that were they both two different people, she would have her arms around him by this point. "I just, I'm scared for him, and my godmother, she's sort of in trouble too."

By this point, Vicky was so swamped with information that she didn't really know what to say. Nothing she could tell Timmy was going to make his situation any better, and she hated knowing that and feeling so helpless while the man she loved fell to pieces beside her.

"Wanda... that's my godmother... she said that even though they're going to fix what he did, they're still going to punish him for doing it in the first place." Tears began to leak from Timmy's eyes at this point, so thickly that where they spilled onto his t-shirt they left large, dark stains, but he wasn't sobbing or coughing, he was just talking normally, albeit a little shakily, as if he didn't even notice.

"Why is she in trouble?" Vicky asked cautiously, passing Timmy a tissue from beside her in a way she hoped conveyed him that she didn't think he was stupid for crying in front of her. Timmy mopped at his eyes and sighed.

"That's complicated too," he said. Vicky nodded, feeling she knew as much as Timmy needed her to know. Timmy buried his face in his hands at this point, and though he made no sound Vicky could see large racking jolts coursing through his body. She wanted so badly to lay one of her long pale hands on his shoulder, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to touch him.

After about ten minutes, during which Vicky had sat awkwardly next to Timmy and had almost felt his unspoken demand that she comfort him in some way, he sat up and looked at her through eyes that were so pink they were almost red. "I thought you could help me," he said, with another of his bitter laughs.

"Me?" Vicky said, astonished. "How?"

Timmy shrugged and wiped his nose with his now sodden tissue. "I don't know," he said with a sniff. "I just remember how you used to be, and how good you were at getting people out of tricky situations, usually yourself. I just thought that somehow you'd come up with an ingenious plan to free my godfather." He shook his head, with the ghost of a smile at how ridiculous he was being plastered on his face.

"This isn't really the same, Timmy," Vicky said, now with a faint stern edge to her consoling tone. "This isn't some stupid scam to make money or get a free skiing trip, this is the law. I can't jut go in there trying to free prisoners, I'd get in enough trouble myself."

Timmy nodded resolutely. "I know," he began, "but the place where my godfather is isn't like other places. The usual laws don't really apply." Vicky nodded a little, humouring Timmy, but she couldn't think of a place on Earth where you could get away with springing a man who had been sentenced to die.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, waving his hands at her, "but it's true." There was a brief pause in which Vicky thought Timmy was about to start cry again. Instead he rubbed his eyes fiercely with the heels of his hands and looked at Vicky, as though he was just remembering some important detail about her that he had forgotten.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Timmy said. He looked around him, as though in desperate search for something to lean on, for something to support him, but he came up empty handed. Then he looked at Vicky again, and selfish desire washed over him.

His thoughts were cast back to the time she had held him while they were hiding in the toilets of the mall. He remembered how it had felt to have her holding him so tightly it seemed as though she would never let go, and he had felt every iota of her love for him course through every nerve in his body. It had filled him with a strange sort of rapture and amazement, for even though he didn't not love her the way she did him, it paled in the face of the strength of her feelings. For those blessed few moments, it hadn't mattered about the spaces in between them, as Timmy had allowed himself to surrender to the wonderful bliss of being surrounded by nothing but pure, raw love for himself. It felt good, of course it would, to know that holding you in her arms was the reason her heart beat quickened so, why her breathing became shallow and while terrible tears of pure pleasure and utter grief filled her eyes. To have someone feel that much about you made you feel lighter than air, and stronger than the sun. It had made him forget everything bad that lay before him, and in that moment, as Vicky stared at him cautiously in her pretty white nightdress, Timmy craved it like nothing he had ever wanted before.

To save himself from her objections, and to spare his awkwardness, Timmy did not ask her permission but simply threw himself at the startled red head, who's first instinct was to recoil as though the boy was attacking her. He threw his arms around her and laid his head on her shoulders, once again with silent tears cascading down his cheeks. Vicky felt as though she was on fire, as both pleasure and pain raced each other to the surface of her skin, overcrowding her senses and making her feel as though she would burst. His arms were locked tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides, but his grip let up when she moved her arms up to encircle him in them. Once she was holding her, (and she was thankful he could not see the horrified expression on her face), he let his arms fall to his sides and fell into her embrace completely, needing the safety of her arms to just escape from the real world for a little while.

"Timmy?" she whispered over the top of his head. She could not lie that she was in something like heaven. He had embraced her, he had shown a basic need of her. Of course, she was only too willing to respond, knowing though she did that it was a lot like shooting herself in the foot. She was merely setting herself up for a fall, but the fact that Timmy was the one who had instigated it did not make her love him any less. She knew it could not be easy for him to do something that was bound to cause her so much pain, but then she knew he was desperate for a way out, and where better to find it than in the arms of a woman who loved you?

After what seemed like forever, Timmy lifted his head from Vicky's shoulder, but she did not take her arms from around him. There faces were mere inches apart, and Vicky was fighting the strong urge to look away from those heartbreaking eyes. Timmy was blinking rather a lot, but he did not look away from her eyes, which she was embarrassed to note must have been filled with not only the beginnings of teardrops, but also a hungry need for the boy she held in his arms. It was in that moment that she realised there was no point pretending in front of him. Her love for Timmy was a secret between the pair no more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Vicky knew that it was not the forced hug that he was apologising for. The bottom seemed to fall out of her heart as Timmy worked his way out of her arms, and suddenly, that was that.

-:-

"You!"

The booming voice had shaken Cosmo to his very core. He had been lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling when his cellmate had returned, but he had paid no attention to the newcomer. The shouted word had brought with it, however, a jolt of recognition in Cosmo's mind, and he sat bolt upright on his bunk and looked at the towering fairy before him.

"Jorgen?" he said incredulously.

"You!" Jorgen repeated, launching himself at the tiny fairy with his arms outstretched and his teeth bared. Cosmo screwed up his eyes, waiting for the impact, but then there was a blinding flash of white light and Jorgen was thrown across the cell and into the stone wall opposite. He took a few moments to regain his composure, before scrambling into a sitting position where he was more or less leaning against the wall.

Cosmo wasn't entirely sure what to say. What with one thing or another, it had completely escaped him that he and Wanda had landed Jorgen in hot water too. 'How are you?' seemed a tad redundant, and 'I'm sorry' sounded patronising. It was, however, a start.

"Jorgen, I'm so sorry," he gushed quickly, hopping down from his bed and getting as close to the muscular fairy as he dared. The magical security measures in the cell would prevent Jorgen from physically hurting Cosmo, but Cosmo didn't want to seem as though he was relishing in the fact. "Wanda and I, we had no idea all this would happen."

Jorgen regarded the fairy ferociously for a moment, before shaking his head and getting to his feet, his expression a lot softer now. "Neither did I," he intoned, making to clap Cosmo chummily on the shoulder but then suddenly thinking better of it. "It's Starr and his dictatorship," he spat. "I had not known he had overthrown Pinky Cosmosis when I made you and that Turner boy the deal. Had I have done..." he trailed off, but Cosmo didn't need words to know that had Jorgen been better informed, he and Wanda would probably have been unpacking their things at their new godchild's at that very moment.

"Still, Wanda and I... we should have done what the rules told us to do," Cosmo said sadly. "Do you know how long you will be in here?" he asked.

"Ten thousand years," Jorgen said, trying his best to act though he did not care. "Eight and a half with good behaviour." He leant against the wall and began examining his nails. "You?"

"About three days," Cosmo said with a heavy sigh. Jorgen cast him a filthy look, as though he was about to start to attempt throttling him again. "After that," Cosmo said, but he could not bring himself to finish. Instead he drew his finger slowly across his throat and closed his eyes. Jorgen looked outraged, but also confused, so Cosmo launched into the whole story because somehow, talking about it made it seem less real.

-:-

"Don't be," Vicky had replied, but she had cast her eyes down to her knees and found that there were no more thoughts in her head. There was no sliver of hope shining it's light through the dark recesses of her depression. There was no faint pink glow surrounding the part of her mind reserved purely for thoughts of how wonderful Timmy was and nothing more. There was just darkness, and sorrow, and a grief so painful that Vicky was certain it would kill her. Two words, 'I'm sorry', and her world had come to an end.

"I didn't mean-" Timmy had begun, but clearly he had meant his apology to tell her how sorry he was that he could never truly love her like she did him. He would be lying, to both himself and to her, to say that he didn't want her. He knew that he did, as sure as night followed day, because there was something so inescapably attractive about her, and he would have dearly loved to take her in his arms and kiss her small, pale lips. And to say that he didn't need her would have been a half-truth as well, for had that been the case then surely he would not be sitting at her mercy now, spilling to her that which he had strived to keep a secret for so long. It was simply that he could not, would not love her, not while she was this other Vicky, this passionless, hopeless fool whose only crime was to fall in love with the wrong boy.

"Where... where is your godfather now?" Vicky asked, her voice vague and her attempt to change the subject all too obvious.

"He's... abroad," Timmy said, thinking that the words 'Fairy World' would be too much to throw at the shaking, trembling figure before him. Timmy ached to go to Fairy World, if not to save Cosmo then at least to see him one last time. But he had been denied even that. Even the trial that he had been promised had been all but washed away, as suddenly Jupitus Starr saw no reason to try a man who had already confessed to being guilty. In three days Cosmo would be dead, Wanda would be trapped, and Timmy would be destroyed. It was in that instant that he knew that he couldn't simply let it happen. He had to try to fix it, and even if he failed at least his conscience would be clear.

"I have to go," he said suddenly, getting to his feet.

"What?" Vicky asked, a note of slight alarm in her voice as she was pulled from her dark and eternal thoughts.

"I have to help Cosmo," he said defiantly, looking around her room wildly as though he were not sure where the door was. Vicky's lowered her eyes once more, a gesture that she hoped showed understanding, but then there was a slight mental click in her brain as things began to fall into place.

"Cosmo?" she repeated faintly.

"My godfather," Timmy replied plainly.

"I know but..." Vicky faltered, her throat suddenly becoming dry and her cheeks burning up at the ridiculousness of what she was about to say.

"What?" Timmy asked, obviously sensing something in Vicky that was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Your godfather, is he..." Vicky swallowed again. "Is he a fairy?"

Timmy should have been expecting it, what with his earlier comments, but something about how quickly Vicky had put two and two together struck him as odd. However, when he had made his way to her house that morning, it had been with the sturdy intention of telling her the full truth about Cosmo and Wanda, and as she was guessing all of the things he was too frightened to say he could see no sense in lying to her now.

"Yes, he is," he said, in a slightly scared tone. "So is Wanda. I mean, they both are."

It took Vicky only a few seconds to absorb this bombshell, but that was mostly because she wasn't sure if she really believed him. Instead she shook her head, trying to clear it, and fixed him with a stare that he had not seen for so long that he suddenly felt ten years old again.

"So this was your secret?" she asked, in a tone full of both determination and amazement.

"Yep, pretty much," Timmy replied with a shrug.

"Makes mine seem sort of unimportant, huh?" she said, but Timmy did not respond. He hated to see her make light of something so damn intense and awesome in it's destructive power. It was a defence he could see straight through, and he wasn't willing to let her sully true love, even if he could not reciprocate it.

Vicky waited a few moments, still not quite allowing herself to believe it, but there was something so absolutely crazy about it all that she couldn't help but trust that what Timmy said was the truth. "And they've sentenced him, your fairy godfather, to death?" she said, and her voice was laced with a disbelieving note. Timmy rolled his eyes at her.

"You don't have to believe me," he said.

Vicky breathed slowly in and out. "Actually, I kind of do," she said. "I've dreamt about him. Twice."

Now it was Timmy's turn to doubt the honesty of the words being bandied about the room. "What?" he asked.

"The first time it was nice," Vicky explained. "He came to me while I was asleep in the garden, and pretty much told me to accept the way I..." she trailed off, but Timmy did not need her to finish. "To question the way I was acting," she said pointlessly.

"And the second?" Timmy pressed on, desperate to know why his godfather would be visiting Vicky in her dreams.

"The second time it had nothing to do with me," she said, and Timmy noted the vague look of disgust on her face. "The second time, he wanted my help. Needed it even. But before he could tell me what was wrong, he vanished in a ball of flame." Timmy stared at her for a little while, completely baffled, so Vicky felt it was upon her to elaborate.

"Your godfather," she said, motioning to Timmy to sit back down beside her again. "Green hair? White shirt with a thin black tie?"

"That's him!" Timmy shouted, almost leaping up from the chair he had just seated himself in. "That's Cosmo!" Vicky nodded resolutely.

"So where is he?" she asked again.

"Fairy World," Timmy replied.

For a long time, Timmy said nothing, and though Timmy wanted to interrupt her, it was clear she was thinking hard. "Fairy World," she said finally. "And how do we get there?"


	20. Da Rules

**A/N: This is a very complicated, sciency sort of chapter, and it is, I must confess, a little boring. Sorry. -Sky.**

**Chapter 20 - Da Rules**

As Vicky slipped her black jeans over her hips, her breath fluttered from her mouth like gasping butterflies. The idea that there even _was_ a Fairly World, let alone the notion that she and Timmy were about to visit it, had filled her with some sort of ludicrous joy. It was as though her prayers had been not so much answered as redirected by an inept God, one who was not able to solve her heartache but that could distract her from it for a little while. Of course, she didn't believe a word of it, but at the same time she felt a little strange, almost criminal. It was as though she and Timmy had been speaking in code, and now they were about to visit some dank and dangerous jail, to spring a man who had committed a terrible atrocity. The absurdity of it all had been nearly enough to rouse her from her depression, pulling her from her own dark mood and reminding her that though it may seem silly, it meant a lot to Timmy, and the fact that there was something painful in his life gave her an almost animal hunger to do something about it. She tugged her t-shirt over her head and glanced at herself in the mirror, an action that made her wince.

She knew quite well that months of heartache to the point of insanity coupled with an absolute disregard for her self image had tainted her looks somewhat, but until now, for some reason, she hadn't realised how much. Her hair was broken and messy; it looked as though she hadn't combed it for weeks, and with a rather embarrassed little feeling, Vicky wondered if that was really the case. She was so skinny now she was gaunt. There were dark shadows under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks. Her t-shirt no longer clung to her body like it used to but instead lay baggy against her skin, completely obliterating the last of her semblance of a figure. She felt, though she hated to think it, ugly, and though she didn't care as much as she might once have done it still hurt. Not much though, she thought, turning away from the mirror with a shrug. She had no one to be beautiful for anymore.

However, just before she left her room, she picked up her hairbrush which was lying on her carpet by the door and raked it through her hair until all the knots had been untangled. It took a while, and she knew that she was both keeping Timmy and wasting time, but for some reason it seemed important. Her hair was a little greasy, but it still fell softly about her face and shoulders, and it made her feel a little better, a little more ready to go out into the world and tackle that which had presented itself. The whole escapade of rescuing Timmy's condemned godfather was the first thing Vicky had actually done in months, the first time she participated in anything outside of herself, and she wanted to go at it with a semblance of normality and tradition about her. She dropped the hairbrush back to the floor and left her room, shutting the door behind her as she did so.

Timmy was no longer in her living room but waiting at the bottom of her stairs when Vicky emerged, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet with one hand curled around the banister. Vicky quickened her pace as she descended the last few stairs, sensing something in Timmy's manner that demanded she did so. He didn't seem angry with her, as such, and made no comment on how long it had taken her to get ready, despite the fact that they knew they were working to a deadline. Instead, Timmy just seemed nervous, a combination of insistence that they get going, coupled with a hesitation spawned from the idea that the sooner they left Vicky's house, the sooner they might find out that there was nothing they could do.

"So," Vicky said, turning her eyes away from Timmy as she felt herself suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "Where first?"

"We should go see Wanda," Timmy replied stoutly. Vicky nodded to the carpet, and Timmy, obviously brimming with eagerness, lead the way to the door. On the way to his house Timmy attempted to explain a little more of what Cosmo had really done, and of what had now befallen Wanda. It was as complicated as he had said it was, and before they knew it Timmy was at the foot of his garden path, his urgency having caused him to proceed a few steps in front of Vicky, while her thoughtfulness had caused her to lag behind.

Timmy pushed open his gate and strode up his garden, and it was only his fumbling with his front door keys, out of anxiousness more than anything, that allowed Vicky enough time to catch up with him. He finally managed to slide his key into the lock just as Vicky came to a halt by his side, and was mid-way through turning it when he felt Vicky's hand on his wrist.

"Wait," she said quickly, which Timmy found himself doing immediately, and not all together surprisingly.

"What?" he said, returning the lock back to it's upright position and removing his key.

"Won't they be watching her?" she asked. "It sounds as though this Fairy Council monitors every single fairy on Earth."

Timmy thought for just a second, and then stamped his foot in exasperation. "Damn!" he said loudly. "I hadn't thought of that." He wrenched his hat from his head in frustration and began pulling at it between his hands. "Now what do we do?" he groaned.

Vicky thought for a moment. "Isn't there some other way we can get to Fairy World? Some legitimate way, I mean? I know that when we get there they might be on the look out for you, but think of it this way. You're not actually being charged with anything, are you? From what I can tell they've forgotten all about you, they've been too focused on convicting your godfather for his, what was it, unwished magic?"

Vicky looked at him hopefully, but Timmy just shook his head. "The only way to get to Fairy World if you're a human is to wish yourself there, and I don't have fairies anymore, do I? They took poor Wanda's magic away from her, she can't even fly anymore."

Vicky only dwelt on the notion of fairies flying for the merest of moments, before clearing her head and setting her mind to thinking again. If Timmy had thought she would give up at the first obstacle, then he would never have come to her for help in the first place. There had to be another way, there just had to be.

"Well, do you know anyone else with fairies?" she asked in a slightly stretched voice.

"No, I-" Timmy began to reply, but then he faltered. He did know _one_ person, but for all he knew that person no longer had his fairy anymore, and even if he did, it was highly unlikely that he would ever help Timmy. He and Remy hardly got on, after all.

"What?" Vicky prompted.

"There is one person, but I doubt he would help..." Timmy said lightly, feeling defeated before he had even had the chance to begin trying.

"Why not?" Vicky asked.

"It's complicated," Timmy said. "He doesn't like me very much, and he wouldn't be able to take us both to Fairy World. There's too much at stake for him to risk his godparent for someone he hates."

Vicky sighed heavily and sat on the ground, her elbows resting on her knees. Timmy hesitated for a moment; the issue of time was clearly still on his mind, but then he shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to her. "It's hopeless, isn't it?" he said mournfully.

"Not quite," Vicky replied in a distracted voice. It was then that Timmy realised that Vicky hadn't slumped to the floor out of anguish, but because she was thinking. He wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but, like earlier when they had sat side by side on her couch, he knew it best not to interrupt.

"They've forgotten about you," she finally whispered, more to herself than to Timmy.

"Mm?" he inquired, just on the edge of her hearing, so that she didn't have to reply if she was still thinking.

She paused for just a second, before turning to him with an air of urgency burning in her eyes. Timmy couldn't help but smile at it. He hadn't seen that sort of passion coming from Vicky for a very long time.

"Well, you said that when most kid's fairies left them, Fairy World took their memories away, right?" She was speaking quickly, almost hysterically, but her voice lilted with the good kind of excitement.

"Yeah..." Timmy replied slowly, trying to understand what she was getting at.

"But they haven't, have they?" she said, beaming.

"Haven't what?" Timmy said stupidly. Vicky rolled her eyes at him.

"You still remember Cosmo and Wanda! I mean, come on! They've even imprisoned Wanda in your bedroom. They must be relying on the fact that you know who she is for you to not freak out because she's even there! Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Er... sort of?" Timmy said, raising his eyebrows at the redhead.

Vicky stared into her lap, and when she spoke again it was with a kind of whispered awe of realisation. "It's like they've forgotten they can take your memories away..." she said hoarsely. "Or, it's more likely, from what you've told me about this Starr character, that they can't."

"What?" Timmy asked, now completely lost.

"Think about it," Vicky said quickly, looking back up and into Timmy's eyes. "Why would you still be able to remember everything? Unless, just maybe, they couldn't take it away? Maybe it has something to do with Cosmo's unwished magic, I don't know, but it seems to me as if there's something keeping your memories in your head, something that Starr can't change. Not until he takes away that unwished magic, and I don't think he's managed to do it yet. I think you should talk to Wanda, I'll wait here, but we need to find out more about what Cosmo did, and why it is you can still remember."

"Vicky," Timmy began earnestly, "that doesn't make any sense. They're fairies, they have magic. They can use it to do whatever they want. And what Cosmo did was illegal and dangerous, so it only makes sense that they should be able to reverse it. They're the good guys in this one, if you want to look at it that way."

Vicky just shook her head in response to this. "No, I don't buy it," she insisted. "Even magic, as weird and incomprehensible as it is, _has_ to have limits. You know, rules."

Timmy put a finger to his mouth in thought, his brain suddenly swimming.

"...and besides," Vicky continued, not noticing the way in which Timmy had become momentarily distracted, "even if to an outsider it seems as though Cosmo is in the wrong and Starr the right, that's purely from a political standpoint. From the universe's point of view, and I bet magic's as well, what Cosmo did was a good thing. I mean, Starr's a dictator for crying out loud. How can he possibly be right?"

"Rules..." Timmy murmured, apparently having missed Vicky's last speech.

"What?" Vicky turned to Timmy, pulled from her own train of thought, her face set in an expression of concentration. Timmy knew more about magic and fairies than she did, by a very long way, and though she was far more scheming than he was, she would have to listen to everything he said very carefully if she wanted to get this right.

"The Rules... there's this book. It's... well, I don't know if it's the rules of magic or the rules of the Fairy Council, but if it is the rules of magic then even Starr would have to obey them, even if he is supposed to be in charge. After all, even he doesn't have control over absolutely everything. If getting rid of my memories or destroying Cosmo's unwished magic interferes with those rules... well, I suppose there wouldn't be anything he could do about it." Timmy was speaking very quickly, obviously to himself as he was not elaborating on that which he knew Vicky would need explained to her.

"Wait, slow down," Vicky interjected, holding up her hands. "You're saying there are _actual_, written-down rules?"

"Yes," Timmy said, finally turning to Vicky and clearly ready to explain to her what had just occurred to him. "Every time I wished for something that wasn't allowed, Cosmo and Wanda's wands wouldn't work, and then this big book would appear, open on the right page and telling me why I wasn't allowed what I had just wished for." Vicky nodded, but she didn't speak. "Some of the rules seem a little political, like certain wishes being under the jurisdiction of certain fairies, but some of them were just plain moralistic, like the ones about not being able to use magic to cheat in a competition."

"So..." Vicky began slowly, running her fingers through her hair. "Maybe it's a mixture. Maybe it started out as being just the rules of magic, but over the years the Fairy Council found a way to add to it, to make rules more apt to the modern Fairy World. I mean, look at this way, it used to be legal to accuse people of witchcraft and burn them at the stake in this country, but that law was changed a long time ago. Maybe things became a matter of law and conscience that never used to be, so new laws had to be made and added to the book."

"Maybe..." Timmy said slowly. "I mean, it does make sense."

"And maybe Starr can edit these rules and swap them around all he wants, just as long as they aren't the original rules or whatever, and if he were to do something against Cosmo's unwished magic, he'd be going against one of the rules that the Fairy Council never made up." Vicky was speaking rapidly too now, her eyes shining with excitement. She breathed heavily for a few moments, but then turned to Timmy with a sober look in her eyes.

"Of course though, this is all guess work. We could be way off. You need to talk to Wanda about the origin of these rules before we go any further."

"Aren't... aren't you coming with me?" Timmy asked sheepishly.

"No..." Vicky said slowly, "no, I don't think I should. If Starr is watching Wanda, we don't want him to know about me just yet. I doubt there's nothing in the rules about him taking my memories away, so as long as he doesn't know that _I_ know... well you get my point. Just get your butt in there while I think a few things through, ok?"

Timmy nodded resolutely. "Ok," he said. "I won't be long."

"Take as long as it needs," Vicky warned. "We have to know everything we can about these rules."

-:-

Wanda felt more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. There had been times, at the beginning with Cosmo, when she had felt exposed and nervous, wondering if his eyes were straying, worrying that she wasn't good enough, but that had been nothing, _nothing_, compared to this. This was something entirely different. Without her magic and her freedom, Wanda felt naked. She felt as though she had been laid bare before the world, defenceless and ashamed, and now all she had left was to wait for it's inevitable attack upon her virgin skin. She shuddered as she waited in Timmy's room, having left the warmth of his bed and instead slid down into the tiny gap between it and the window. She held her knees, hugged tightly to her chest, beneath which her heart thundered and shook. She had never been so scared in all her life, but this was her forever now. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to it.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

She peeked nervously over the top of the bed, scrunching the bed sheets in her fists in her terror. In her heart she knew it was Timmy, but her new situation now found her frightened of everything. She was even feeling a little guilty towards Timmy, getting into trouble such as she had, and now forcing her presence upon him in his room until the day he saw fit to leave. He was a teenage boy, she knew he needed his privacy, and his room should have been the place where he could get just that. Now she would always be there, and no amount of shielding her eyes or turning away would ever make her poor godson ever feel like he was truly alone.

The door creaked as it was slowly opened, and with another pang Wanda noted that the gentleness with which Timmy approached his own room showed that he had already adjusted to sharing it with her. Clearly he felt she may still be sleeping, or otherwise indecent, and he was gentlemanly enough not to barge in on her prison. She was overwhelmed with his kindness, and at how quickly he had relinquished the idea of it being 'his room', making way for the failed fairy that had once been his godmother. Tears filled her eyes, as they had so many times in the few hours that Timmy had been gone, but she bit them back fiercely, knowing that she had forever to mourn, but that Timmy would one day have to move on.

"Wanda?" Timmy whispered, stepping lightly into the room. Wanda rose to her feet, a sad little smile on her face, and she stepped around the bed meekly.

"Are you alright?" Timmy asked quickly, his voice frightened.

"I'm fine," she said reassuringly. "Just... you know."

Timmy nodded to show that he understood, but he didn't really know what to say. He looked to the bed, then to the door, before craning his neck to look at the ceiling, half expecting to see surveillance cameras staring back at him. Before Vicky had said it, it hadn't occurred to him that the Fairy Council probably _was_ watching Wanda. Why he couldn't say, as it was fairly certain that their magical restraints would prevent her from leaving the room. Like Vicky said, it was more likely that they were trying to watch Timmy, for the same reasons that they hadn't taken his memories away yet, but as Timmy was human they couldn't watch him like they could other fairies.

Still, he knew it best to talk casually about the rules, to not concentrate on them, because if Vicky's hunch was right it wouldn't take Starr long to realise that Timmy had figured out _why_ his memories still remained. For some reason, Timmy didn't think it was a good idea for Starr to know this, even if there was nothing he could do about it. He especially didn't need to know about Vicky's involvement in this, as Timmy was certain that by telling her about Cosmo and Wanda he had broken certain rules that Starr could act upon, but the fact that Starr didn't _already_ realise that Vicky knew lead to a whole new train of thought that was too confusing for Timmy to even consider.

"Isn't there some way we could get your magic back?" Timmy asked. It would seem too obvious, he felt, if he weren't openly trying some way to rectify his godmother's situation. Wanda shook her head sadly, none the wiser as to Timmy's plans. She even shot him a warning look, something that confirmed his suspicions that the Fairy Council was eavesdropping.

"Nothing at all?" he said quietly, dejectedly.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she said, her voice bitter and spiteful. "I deserve everything I'm due to get and more. It's my fault Cosmo's going to die, after all." She threw herself onto Timmy's bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling, tears now streaming unashamedly down her temples and soaking her messy pink hair.

"How can you say that?" Timmy demanded, almost angrily. "You didn't make him create that unwished magic. In fact, if you'd have known what he was trying to do, you would have stopped him! Don't you ever blame yourself for this Wanda, never! All you ever did was love Cosmo, and that's it!"

"I should have known him better. I should have realised. I should have warned him. I should have done _something_. But I didn't even know. I still don't know why he had to do it in the first place."

Timmy said nothing. He wanted to somehow give Wanda a sign that Starr wouldn't understand. A sign that he was right now working on a plan to free Cosmo, with Vicky's help, and that all he needed her to do was to give him some vital information. Every impulse in his body told him to just ask her outright, but he knew that would be a mistake. Somehow, if the Fairy Council thought he was planning instead of just being inquisitive, they would do something, although Timmy wasn't sure what. Worst case scenario, they would bring forward Cosmo's execution without undoing his unwished magic. It seemed unlike Starr, a man who so believed in order and numbers, to do such a thing, but Timmy didn't doubt that Starr was also the sort of man who could snap without a moment's notice, all thoughts of tidiness forgotten in the face of cold, hard revenge.

Timmy thumped a hand down on his bedside table, jerking Wanda upright in shock. "Sorry," he mumbled, "but it's those stupid rules! They make me so mad." He was really hamming it up now, and Timmy had never been that much of an actor.

"I know sweetie," Wanda said consolingly, somewhat wary of Timmy's unnatural outburst. "But you can't change them."

"Why not?" Timmy demanded angrily, frightening Wanda more than he had meant to. He felt a small pang of guilt flash through his chest, but he ignored it. This was for the greater good, after all.

Wanda shrugged. "Well... because they're rules," she said slowly. "They just are. They always have been."

"But all of them?" Timmy shouted, trying to make it sound as though his questions weren't as well thought out as they really were. "That doesn't make any sense. Surely you can swap some around, edit them? You know, a loophole or something?"

"Timmy, I don't really know much about the rule book," Wanda admitted, her voice laced with her desire to get off the subject that was making Timmy so angry.

"It doesn't matter anyway, does it? I mean, the Fairy Council makes the rules after all, right?" he spat, flopping down on the bed next to Wanda, his rage exhausted.

"Oh no sweetie, not at all," Wanda said soothingly, patting Timmy on the arm. Timmy shot straight up.

"They don't make the rules?" he asked in a measured voice.

"No, they're not allowed to," Wanda said seriously. "It's against the laws of magic. Magic makes it's own rules, and the Fairy Council is bound to enforce them. That's it though. If fairies could make up what rules they wanted and get rid of the ones they didn't, there'd be all sorts of anarchy."

"How do you mean?" Timmy asked, frowning. Contrary to this, however, his mind was feeling a little jubilant. Clearly Vicky had been a little off, but she hadn't been completely wrong. Even the Fairy Council was governed by the very rules it upheld, so maybe it _was_ the magic that was stopping the Council coming down hard on Timmy and taking away his memories.

"Well, before the Fairy Council was assembled, there was no one to keep fairies in line. The rules still remained, and most fairies adhered to them, as most fairies are intrinsically good. But, as you know, every now and then there is a fairy who needs a little extra guidance, as it were. One who is not entirely good."

"Starr," Timmy spat, not meaning to, forgetting who was watching. Wanda made as though she hadn't heard him.

"Of course, the rules stop this fairy from doing wrong, or at least, they try to, but sometimes a fairy can break the rules if he tries really hard and feels he has a good reason."

"Unwished magic," Timmy said simply.

"Exactly," replied Wanda, breathing deeply. "Anyway, there was a lot of this going about at one stage. Some bad fairies were training others to do the unwished magic, and it was leading to a lot of bad things, both on Fairy World and here on Earth. As well as causing trouble for the humans, some of them were starting to notice us, too. Kids with fairy godparents were getting accused of being witches, things like that. So some of the fairies who were still good decided that something should be done about the bad ones, a way to punish those who broke the rules."

"Hence the Fairy Council," Timmy said blandly.

"Right. At first it was a good system. They took care of law breakers in just ways, and everything seemed to settle down. After a while, those who could do unwished magic became less and less, and it soon faded into people's memories, becoming something like a horror story for parents to tell their children to make sure they never tried it."

"If you ever do unwished magic, the Fairy Council will destroy you, that type of thing?" Timmy said bitterly.

"Yes, that type of thing," Wanda agreed in just as sour a voice. "Soon the Fairy Council began to have authority in other areas, too, like the governing of godparents and fairy schools and the such. It wasn't long before they were completely in charge, making up acts and passing laws that were nothing to do with magic. More human laws, you know? But no one really minded, because the Fairy Council was still a force for good, and everyone got along fairly.

"Eventually, though, the system started to corrupt. Only a little, with offences being ignored here and there, and people getting into power through very suspect means. It happened slowly, but the Council got to a point where it was a target for dictators... like Starr," Wanda whispered.

"But what about the rules?" Timmy asked anxiously. "What happened to them?"

"Well, the Council had no choice but to uphold them. It was either that or ignore them completely, and allow fairies to get away with things that weren't in the Council's best interests. You see, though some of the rules seem strange, they are there for a reason. Magic is incorruptible, and even the corrupt fairies are governed by it's rules."

"Are some rules... more important than others?" Timmy asked, trying to sound politely interested. He was trying for all his might to make it seem as though he was only letting this thread of conversation continue to take Wanda's mind off of things.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" she asked.

"Well, what if something wrong is justified by a rule that's more important?"

"You mean that old moral about stealing a knife to prevent a murder?" Wanda said.

"Exactly," Timmy said.

"Well..." Wanda said slowly, pondering her answer. "I'm not really sure, but I guess it would have to go to trial. The Fairy Council-"

Timmy cut her off. "I don't mean in the eyes of the Fairy Council," he said quickly. "I mean in the eyes of the magic itself. Like you said, the rules _prevent_ the fairies from doing anything that is against the rules, but some fairies can develop the ability to break them anyway, right?"

"Right..." Wanda said, trying to keep up.

"So..." Timmy said slowly, knowing that there was no way what he was about to ask wouldn't be a blatantly obvious and pointed question to Starr or whoever he had delegated to watch Wanda. "If a fairy did some unwished magic that broke only a small rule, or only broke the rule about not doing unwished magic itself, could the Council's decision to undo it be overturned by a more important rule?"

"I'm confused," Wanda said honestly.

"What if, by undoing Cosmo's magic, the Fairy Council was itself doing something that was against the rules? Wouldn't that explain why they wouldn't be able to undo it? The magic itself wouldn't allow them, right?"

"I suppose not..." Wanda said. "After all, the magic doesn't remember who has broken the rules and who hasn't. It just has it's rules, and the rules are in every fairy's blood, holding them back from doing things that the magic judges as wrong. It may have tried to prevent Cosmo from doing the unwished magic, but he still managed it. It's just as possible that it is now working against the Council to prevent them from performing any magic that breaks any of it's rules."

Timmy's head was swimming, both with this new information and the sheer complexity of the conversation. He was a little confused, but he felt he had the general gist of it. To break it down simply, if Wanda still had her magic and Timmy wished that Cosmo's unwished magic be undone, her wand would deflate and _Da Rules_ would appear promptly in front of her. And that was good enough for Timmy. It would be a lot to explain to Vicky, as she was new to the whole concept and had less insight than Timmy, but it didn't matter. It would be something to take up the journey to Remy's house, anyway.

-:-

To Timmy's surprise, Vicky had taken his explanations rather well, and asked him no questions when he was finished. It was remarkable that she just _seemed_ to get it, when it was so complicated to Timmy that he had to run it through his head several times before he could understand it. They weren't even half way there when he was done, and that was even with the Fairy Council's back story thrown in. They had walked a few more yards in silence, and then Timmy had snapped.

"Doesn't it baffle you?" he asked indignantly, words shrieking out of him like bats from a cave.

"No," Vicky had replied simply, offering him an impish smile. She was in such a good mood, and she had no idea why.

"Why not?" Timmy asked, shaking his head.

"Because _I_ listened," she replied cheekily.

"Hey!" Timmy said, but Vicky held up a hand to stem his outrage.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said, smiling faintly. "You and I are just two different people. When you were in there, listening to Wanda, I bet you were angry and afraid and all other sorts of emotions. You can't help yourself, that's just the way you are."

"What's your point?" Timmy asked.

"When you were telling me, I was just plain listening. I was thinking about the trouble we could get into, or..." she threw Timmy a heart-breaking glance, "...or anything else. I just knew that I needed the details for this plan to go off without a hitch, and that I couldn't allow my emotions to get in the way of that."

"I wish I could be as calm and cool as you," Timmy said, kicking at the ground with his sneaker.

"It's not coolness," Vicky replied sternly. "It's business sense. Do you think I could have been half as bad as I was if I let my feelings come into it? Isn't it obvious to you, especially now, that feelings are a distraction from the big prize? They hold you back, and I gave them up a long time ago. If I had stopped to _feel _about what I was doing, I probably wouldn't have done any of it, because I always knew that it was wrong. I always _knew_ I was a bad person. I just didn't care. You do, and that's why you're such a good person. I didn't mean what I said about you not listening either. You _do_ listen, especially when you know it really matters."

"What do you mean," Timmy asked, feeling himself blush crimson.

"Well," Vicky said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You always listen to me."

There was some more silence between the pair then, with much clearing of throats and averting of gazes. Then Vicky looked at Timmy until he was forced to look back at her. She had a no-nonsense expression on her face now. She was back into business mode again, back into the place where all that mattered was getting to Fairy World and getting Cosmo freed. Timmy mentally remanded himself, knowing that if he wanted to help his godfather he needed to be in that place too, and not fawning over every nice comment Vicky happened to absentmindedly throw his way.

"What's this Remy guy like?" Vicky asked.

Timmy growled. "Think 'as rich as you could ever want to, and not as nice about it'," he said levelly.

"Ouch," Vicky said, mock-wincing as they continued on their way. "And his godfather?"

"Utter beefcake with no brains, but he's crazy about Wanda." Timmy didn't know why, but he couldn't help but smile at the thought of Wandissamo's misplaced affection towards his godmother. It was absurd really, but Timmy knew that some people never gave up on their love, no matter how far out of their reach they seemed. He threw a small pitying glance at Vicky, one that he was grateful she did not catch.

"That's if he even still has Wandissamo around," Timmy continued, sounding crestfallen. "I mean, it's not likely, is it?"

"Never underestimate the power of the dollar," Vicky said, shaking a finger at Timmy as they approached a huge set of wrought-iron gates. They had large, golden _'B'_sset into the centres, surrounded by carvings of small winged creatures that Timmy would have sworn were fairies on any other day. Behind them lay a long gravel driveway that stretched so far that the mansion at the end of it seemed to be a speck on the horizon. Timmy wasn't fooled though; Remy's parents would never lower themselves to living in anything but the finest house in Dimsdale. This place was miles away from Timmy's own home, all the way across town. When Timmy stood here, Chester's trailer seemed as though it was on a whole other planet.

"Nice place," Vicky said, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"How do we get in?" Timmy asked. Vicky winked conspiratorially at him.

"Follow my lead," she said with a grin, walking over to the buzzer that was built into the high brick wall that surrounded the Buxaplenty Manor. She extended a slender digit and pushed on the shiny black button. There was a crackling of static and a brief pause, and then a posh, nasal voice radiated through the speaker.

"Buxaplenty residence," the voice announced. "What is your business?"

Vicky cleared her throat, and began speaking in a tone Timmy had never heard her use before. It was very well spoken, but it was also quite authoritarian and intimidating. It was all he could do not to laugh, and he had to cram his fingers into his mouth to prevent himself from doing just that.

"Yes, my good man. My name is Victoria Raleigh-Smith, and I represent the Smithsdale School of Latin and History. I am here with my associate, Timothy Walter Jones, and we have an appointment with young Master Buxaplenty, regarding his application."

"Just a moment Ma'am, if you please." There was another crackle of static as the butler's finger was lifted from the button, and Timmy rounded on Vicky and pulled her to face him.

"We don't look anything like those toffs you just made up!" he hissed.

Vick smoothed down her hair and curled the ends around her finger, so they turned into the nape of her neck. Then she removed Timmy's baseball cap and hid it in a hedge.

"Better?" she asked, and Timmy got the creeping feeling that she hadn't actually intended for their alter-egos to go any further than the intercom. He blushed at his own naivety and lack of sneakiness.

"Not really," he said sourly.

"Fair enough," Vicky replied, before promptly pushing the younger boy into a dirty puddle of water on the sidewalk. He slipped as he tried to get up, and the sight of Vicky laughing made him reach up and yank her arm so that she too fell into the watery mess. She laughed as she did so, and then they both stood up, filthy from head to toe.

"Now what do we say?" Timmy asked in a frustrated voice.

"Frightfully rude, these Dimsdale folk, aren't they?" she said, resuming her posh tone. "Driving their garish vehicles recklessly and splashing us with this mucky water. They've completely ruined our official SSLH uniforms!"

Timmy took a moment out of his anger to be slightly bemused. "SSLH?" he asked.

"Smithsdale School of-" Vicky began, but she was interrupted by the buzzing of the speaker.

"Ah, Ms. Raleigh-Smith?" the voice intoned.

"Yes my good fellow?" Vicky replied.

"I apologise, but I appear to have no record of your appointment down I am afraid..." the butler said, with stuffy disinterest. He didn't seem to be at all sorry.

"Preposterous!" Vicky shrieked, stepping up to plate without a moment's hesitation. I telephoned myself this very morning! My colleague and I have travelled a very long way to see Master Buxaplenty and frankly, we were debating the whole way about whether or not he was SSLH material. Had it not been for Mr. Buxaplenty's generous contribution to the school, we would not have bothered to make the journey, but if you deny us entry now we may as well return to the school and shred Mr. Buxaplenty's check. I will of course inform him, however, that regardless of how important it was to him that his son be accepted into our fine institution, and I can only assume it was based on the size of the check, it was unfortunately not important enough to his staff, who have not even the wits about them to jot down a simple phone message!" Vicky was breathing heavily through her nose now, making a sound like a bull that had been shown a red cloth.

"Uh... no, no, that won't be necessary," the butler responded, miraculously keeping his composure despite his obvious panic. "I shall set up the meeting room with Master Buxaplenty at once. Please forgive my absentmindedness. I shall be with you momentarily."

"Excellent," Vicky replied briskly, all traces of rage instantly evaporating from her voice.

Timmy beamed at her, and burst into raucous laughter that was so loud Vicky felt certain it would carry to the house. She began to laugh back, quietly at first, but then snorts and sniggers began erupting from her before she could stop them. For some reason, however, it was that moment that reality decided to knock her for six. She straightened up, smoothed out her hair and brushed what slime she could from her clothes. She felt good, and she knew why. It was the distraction, and there was something so gratifying in that. She realised, in that moment, that she and Timmy had become something like friends, and as long as there was something around to keep her mind from the dull ache that penetrated her heart, she was happy in his company, and he was in hers. Suddenly everything did seem brighter, and Vicky thought of the green garden, of the feeling she had gotten while she looked upon it.

And she realised it must have been Cosmo's work.

She stole a glance at Timmy, who was doubled up with laughter as the gates electronically opened, and decided it would be better, for now, not to tell him a thing.


End file.
